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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570199">Hell Within Reach</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddarkerdreams/pseuds/ddarkerdreams'>ddarkerdreams</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunter X Hunter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Bonding, Awkward Flirting, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fake Marriage, Kinda, Mutual Pining, Pining, Reader Can Use Nen, Reader Is a Part of The Phantom Troupe, Reader-Insert, Slight Phinks/Reader If You Squint, Slow Burn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 22:41:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>27,944</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddarkerdreams/pseuds/ddarkerdreams</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>No longer able to return to your home country, which lays just beyond the borders of the known world, you found yourself stranded in an unknown land. After weeks of aimless wandering, an encounter with the Phantom Troupe’s leader gives you a new set of opportunities. </p><p>The Spider had recently lost a member and was in need of a new leg.</p><p>Takes place four years prior to the main events of Hunter x Hunter.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kuroro Lucifer | Chrollo Lucifer/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>81</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For a full description of Reader's Nen check out here: https://ddarker-dreams.tumblr.com/gatetothebeyond<br/>And for Survosia, Reader's home country, check out here: https://ddarker-dreams.tumblr.com/survosia !!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>You stare at your reflection in the grandiose mirror.</p><p>Crimson lipstick in hand, you spread the pigment across your lips, faintly recalling your eldest sister’s advice.</p><p>“The mouth is a woman’s greatest weapon,” Estella had told you during a discussion in the gardens of your home. “Learn to wield it well and you might find that it serves you better than any blade.”</p><p><em>Better, than a blade, huh? </em>You frown and readjust your necklace. A gold chain with a round diamond at the end. It’s rare to find yourself getting this dressed up. A maxi, midnight black dress hugs your torso, before flaring out at the waist and stopping just shy above your feet. If it came down to a fight, it’d be a mild hindrance, but you decided to wear matching heels regardless.</p><p>Your Nen serves you better than any purse could, a realm in which you can store weapons (and makeup, in this instance), opening freely at your beck and call. A small, circular opening appears by your fingertips and you watch as it seemingly swallows your lipstick whole. <em>Best to remember that’s there, so I don’t grab lipstick when I need a weapon,</em> you think.</p><p>That should be everything. You’ve spent enough time touching yourself up in the powder room. This is a useful tactic of yours, escaping into the bathroom to waste time until the night ends. Unlike all those times before, this was a matter you were personally invested in and thus couldn’t risk disappearing for too long. Glancing at your watch, the time reads 9:05 PM, a sign that you need to get going.</p><p>You push open the bathroom’s mahogany doors and find yourself submerged into a nonsensical yet familiar world. Orchestral music floods your senses, melancholic strings joined by the occasional brass blending into the background. Which piece was this again? You consider for a moment where you’ve heard it before. Ah, that was it. Rachmaninov’s Vocalise. Ash had practiced the score in the courtyard for many months before their ninth grade’s spring concert. It made for pleasant background noise, though their loud swearing when they made a mistake ruined the magical effect.</p><p>“You left me for <em>dead</em>.” A gruff voice pries you from your reminiscing. You look to your side, Phinks glowering down at you with what he must intend to be a killer glare. How charming.</p><p>“You look alive to me,” comes your immediate response. He sighs, fists clenching and unclenching by his side in an attempt to quell his budding rage. Phinks makes it evident that he abhors these social events even if it is related to a job for the Troupe. Not that you can blame him, there’s little enjoyment to be found amongst people who have more cents than sense. Ironic as it may be for you to think that.</p><p>“Our definitions of alive must vary greatly,” he tugs at the collar of his shirt and grimaces. “What’s taking Fei so long, anyway? He was supposed to contact us fifteen minutes ago.”</p><p>It’s not like you have any way of knowing, but adding fuel to the fire with a sarcastic response isn’t a bright idea. “Perhaps the target isn’t cooperating?”</p><p>“I doubt it. The poor bastard was like the rest of these pigs — willing to squeal at the first sign it’d benefit him.” Phinks sighs, cursing under his breath once more. You get the unspoken message. The longer Feitan takes with extracting the information, the longer you’ll be stuck intermingling with this miserable crowd. Phinks already seems to be at his limit whereas you believe the night to still be young. This is nothing. You’ve had to entertain these types of folk for days on end, a couple of hours isn’t enough to do you in.</p><p>This is likely the reason the boss had assigned you to this position while the other members of the Troupe are elsewhere. What you don’t understand is why he picked Phinks to be your partner for the night, given his standoffish nature. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Chrollo, it’s that he has a penchant for seeing the bigger picture, so you’ll trust his judgment.</p><p>Your lips part to offer a possible new course of action, only to be cut off by Phinks’ phone vibrating in his breast pocket. He pulls it out with renewed vigor, probably hoping for word from Feitan, and answers it in record time.</p><p>“Did you get the— oh, boss. Sorry ‘bout that,” he purses his lips and glances at you. “Yeah, she’s right here. Alright. I’ll tell her.”</p><p>He puts the phone down.</p><p>“Boss wants to see you on the top floor. Said something about an ‘unforeseen dilemma’. Can nothing ever just go as intended for once…?” Phinks grumbles the last bit more so to himself than you. Chrollo wants to see you? Originally, the plan had been for you and Phinks to keep watch on the bottom floor of the hotel should any bodyguards attempt to interfere with the planned heist.</p><p>The hotel hosting this event was sixty floors tall if memory serves. Your eyes shift towards the elevator, nothing of alarm happening in the vicinity.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to it then.” You nod in his direction and waste no time following your new orders.</p><p>Where your boss is at right now is the main objective for tonight.</p><p>According to Shalnark’s information, a rising figure in high society happened to obtain a variety of precious merchandise. Everything ranging from art pieces to illegal books. Those who were in the know about the true motivation for this grandiose party would be bartering for even one of these collector’s items, or that’s how they expected the evening to go, at least.</p><p>Fortunately, everyone who had been granted permission to be on the top floor already made their way up. You flash your letter of permission to the elevator operator, who subsequently nods, and gestures for you to come in. The security for this event is downright embarrassing, you think. Had it been hosted by your father, the servants of your estate would’ve cross-checked photo identification with the guestlist. How many times did you have to watch fast-rising social climbers be escorted off the premises, assuming a forged letter was enough to get in? At the very least, they could’ve donned a disguise. That would’ve made for a more interesting night.</p><p>Not to say that those in charge have no security whatsoever. Shalnark identified some of the people who blended in as guests to be hunters, likely hired for this job specifically. Would that be enough to obstruct what the boss has planned? You doubt it but remain on high alert nonetheless. When it comes to Nen, it was best to never underestimate your opponent’s capabilities.</p><p>A loud ding alerts that you’ve arrived at your destination, the top floor, which overlooks the city skyline.</p><p><em>The people up here aren’t to be taken lightly, </em>you remind yourself. You’ll need to closely monitor your appearance and mannerisms. Countless hours spent studying etiquette flood your mind as you step one foot onto the marble floor, your heels clicking quietly. Keep your head lifted. Square your shoulders back. Walk with purpose. You wonder how Estella would feel if she could see you now — a perfect mold of what she believes a lady ought to be — though you’re certain she’d find something to critique. She’s always had a keen eye for imperfections.</p><p>This room is a perfect setting for such a grand affair. Tall ceilings, glistening crystal chandeliers, tables full of catering from Michelin star restaurants.</p><p>Scanning your eyes across the room, a wave of intrusive nostalgia hits you. Your attention is piqued by a young woman, speaking sweetly to a man that could’ve easily tripled her age. How everything down to her laugh is planned and timed for the most effectiveness, not too over the top, but enough to goad him further. It seems her technique had the intended effect. You decide that this familiar scene was not something you missed.</p><p>Would it be best to grab a glass of wine from the many waiters walking around to blend in? While you consider the idea, a recognizable aura, one that’s unmistakable.</p><p>You sense your boss before you see him. He circles in front and speaks as if you were lifelong friends.</p><p>“[First]. You look absolutely stunning.”</p><p>The words, though likely part of the gentleman act he utilizes for heists, still threaten to make you flush. Well, that’s the Phantom Troupe’s boss for you.</p><p>His cologne smells of cedarwood and sage. Chrollo’s typical attire which consists of a gaudy leather jacket has been replaced for something far more subtle, a standard navy blue suit and tie. His dark hair is let loose rather than slicked back, framing his sharp face, though his forehead is obscured by wrapped around bandages. Chrollo cleans up well, you decide. Unlike Phinks, Chrollo can blend into these circles with ease, boasting confidence that could deceive the most trained eye. It was enough to almost fool you the first time you met.</p><p>“As do you,” you return with a smile you <em>pray </em>doesn’t seem as forced as it feels. Your compliment may be genuine but your facial expressions are another thing.</p><p>He extends his arm in an unspoken gesture and you take it.</p><p>“I had been giving the past some thought,” he starts, walking you over to a spot where fewer people were gathered near the balcony. “The two of us became acquainted under circumstances like this, didn’t we?”</p><p>The way words flow from his tongue with such ease is remarkable. Whether it was his intention or not, you realize how stiff your posture feels and manage to loosen your muscles. You can’t help but feel Chrollo’s more suited for this element of heists than you.</p><p>Realizing you’ve yet to answer, your honest opinion slips through. “That we did. Though I must admit, I didn’t take you for the reminiscing type.”</p><p>Ah, was that rude? Much to your surprise, and mild relief, Chrollo appears more amused than offended.</p><p>“I find it’s useful to occasionally reflect on the past. Do you not?”</p><p>This is veering into personal territory. Conversing with Chrollo is akin to a double-edged sword, it’s never dull, but you’re kept on your toes as a result.</p><p>“I’d say it depends on what it is you’re remembering. Some things are best left forgotten.”</p><p>He closes his eyes. “Perhaps you have a point.”</p><p>Chrollo then shifts the conversation from casual to business. He subtly glances in the direction of a group of men far removed from the rest of the crowd, your eyes following his movements. One particular man stands out to you.</p><p>“Colevine is a family friend, correct?”</p><p>He’s likely referring to the sallow-looking man who’s too busy swirling his cup of wine to taste it. Harden Colevine — the patriarch of the once-notorious Colevine empire — in the flesh. He’s seen better days, you note. His skin is sickly pale, deep bags underneath his weary eyes, and his dark hair noticeably thinning. Why he’s in Yorbia rather than in your home country, Survosia, strikes you as odd. That, and the fact a man of little to no standing somehow managed to worm his way into a group of socialites.</p><p>There’s no reason to bother correcting Chrollo’s semantics. Harden Colevine doesn’t trust you as far as he could throw you, but would likely never risk disrespecting your father by expressing that sentiment loud and clear. You are an extension of the Avalor legacy, regardless of your efforts to distance yourself from it. Victor Avalor’s blood runs through your veins.</p><p>You confirm his statement with a nod and he continues.</p><p>“As I thought.”</p><p>Chrollo flicks his phone out to reveal a text from Shalnark, received just a few minutes prior. A picture of Colevine is attached along with a caption.</p><p>
  <em>This guy, Harden Colevine, is the real host for the event tonight. The man Feitan tortured swore on his life, claiming Colevine hired him to act as the head out of paranoia. Colevine is the only one with the knowledge of where the merchandise we’re after is at.</em>
</p><p>“So that’s how it is,” you flatly respond, pulling out your phone and scrolling until you reach Shalnark’s contact. “Please give me a moment. I need to confirm something with him.”</p><p>Shalnark picks up after a single ring, his cheerful voice greeting you. “Ah, [First]! Perfect timing. I was just about to text the boss that you might be useful here. Guess he must’ve already figured that out, huh?”</p><p>You hear him laugh but think little of it.</p><p>“Would it be possible for you to gain access to Colevine’s recent bank statements?”  Your voice is lowered to a whisper. Shalnark hums, considering the prospect.</p><p>“Hmm, it should be. Mind me asking what good that’s going to do?”</p><p>“Call it tentative speculation.” You briefly glance at Colevine, who flinches when another person in a suit suddenly approaches. <em>He’s on edge, </em>you think. <em>Too on edge. </em>You and Chrollo wait in silence while Shalnark sets to work, typing on his end. After a long minute, he speaks back up.</p><p>“I can’t say it’s anything too damning,” he sighs as if he was expecting something more newsworthy. “Just the usual stuff from this rabble. From the looks of it, he’s probably been using multiple offshore banks to avoid taxation, but that’s about it.”</p><p>“For how long?”</p><p>“It goes back a ways. However, the transactions in the past six months have gotten into the seven or eight figures, the ones from before weren’t nearly as sizable.”</p><p>That confirms your guess. “I appreciate it, Shalnark. That was all I needed to know.”</p><p>“Are you going to send tax collectors after him or something?” Shalnark jests.</p><p>“Something like that,” you hang up and return your attention to Chrollo, who is patiently awaiting your explanation. “If I may, I have a plan.”</p><p>“I’m all ears,” he smiles. Averting your gaze, you clear your throat, finding it suddenly difficult to look him in the eye.</p><p>“A quick word with him is all it should take. He’s not a particularly resilient man, I doubt he’ll last long underneath some pressure.” You pause to gauge if Chrollo seems receptive to your idea. His body language has never been easy to read, that charming smile always unfaltering. Even more so in public. However, he raises no protests, instead closing his eyes to ponder.</p><p>“Very well,” he agrees. “Allow me to accompany you for this ‘quick word’.”</p><p>His tone is firm underneath the guise of friendliness. Does he not trust you, or is it something else? Whatever the case, if that’s his sole condition, you don’t see any reason to argue. Nodding your head, the two of you walk side by side to where Colevine and his men stand in the back of the event hall. It’s made evident who has access to this section and who doesn’t. This could pose a problem if not handled correctly, you’d rather not resort to violence until you have eyes on the merchandise.</p><p>Two burly bodyguards extend their arms to prevent you from getting any closer.</p><p>“Only authorized individuals are allowed past this point,” one of them says. “Please make your way back to the main event.”</p><p>From their accents, they have to be from Yorbia and not Survosia, or else they wouldn’t dare dismiss you so easily. In a way, you can appreciate it. Being treated as any other person would… who would’ve thought such a mundane thing would feel nice, almost <em>humanizing</em>. However, in this instance, that just won’t do. Loathe as you are to admit it, you’ll need to leverage your status to complete this job.</p><p>Colevine happens to spot you from the corner of his eye, his body stiffening like a corpse. There’s a flurry of emotions that flutter over his face. Surprise, anxiety, confusion. He breaks into an awkward half jog to meet you where you stand and raises a hand to dismiss the two guards. <em>That takes care of that problem, </em>you think.</p><p>“Lady [First]. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Colevine reaches out to kiss your hand. You’re immensely grateful to be wearing these gloves, otherwise, serious disinfection would be in order. You make a mental note to burn this fabric at a later time.</p><p>“Nothing but your gracious hospitality, of course,” you gesture to the surrounding decor. “You’ve truly outdone yourself, Mr. Colevine. I take it your wife planned this event, given the scale?”</p><p>He lightens up momentarily at the mention of his wife. “She’s back home, so I’m afraid I was in charge of overseeing the preparations myself. Though, I’ll be sure to relay your compliment back to her.”</p><p>That explains why you haven’t seen her prowling about. A blessing in disguise, as it were, Mrs. Colevine is a far better judge of character than her husband. She wouldn’t surrender to verbal threats as easily.</p><p>With the strained niceties out of the way, you shift to the real goal here. Every second spent in the company of this avaricious fool is a second of your life you’ll never get back.</p><p>“I hate to be presumptuous, however… such a large-scale event surely would’ve surely cost you a pretty penny, no?”</p><p>Most would gloat in the ability to afford such luxuries, but he backpedals.</p><p>“Not in the slightest,” Colevine rushes to correct, waving off the thought as if it were preposterous. He looks anywhere other than your leering eyes, searching for a new topic of conversation. Colevine looks to have struck gold when he spots Chrollo. “Ah, you’ve yet to introduce me to your date for this evening, Lady [First]! Who would this strapping young lad happen to be?”</p><p>Hah, like you’re going to let him skirt around the point that easily. “Introductions can wait another moment. What I’m more curious about is your ability to fund what is, doubtlessly a multi-million dollar event, while simultaneously claiming bankruptcy back home? How does that work, exactly?”</p><p>You don’t miss how Chrollo’s lips quirk into a smile in the corner of your eye.</p><p>Colevine sputters, his face flushing a deep shade of crimson. “I-I don’t know <em>what </em>you’re trying to imply—”</p><p>“Is it not the truth rather than an implication?” You raise an eyebrow, challenging him. Without Mrs. Colevine here to gracefully smooth over his mistakes, he is but a blubbering fool, held together by nothing substantial.</p><p>He adjusts the cuffs of his suit and lowers his voice to a whisper. “These things take <em>time</em>, surely can you understand that? I have every intention of bringing whatever earnings I make here back to Survosia when my dealings are finalized.”</p><p>“You’ve hardly given me a reason to trust you for your word,” you observe how the color drains from his face, “I would like to see these items you’ve supposedly happened upon with my own eyes. How else can I confirm your story to be legitimate?”</p><p>Colevine shifts his weight from foot to foot. The gears in his head are undoubtedly turning to assess the best course of action. The guards he’s hired stand at the ready to step in should he signal them too, their hands hovering over their holsters. Carefree chatter and boisterous laughter from the other guests reverberate throughout the spacious event hall. How will he decide to navigate this, you wonder. It’d tarnish Colevine’s reputation to allow a shootout on such an important night. Not that the reputation of a dead man is important.</p><p>You recall the positions of your fellow Troupe members for this heist. The closest would be Phinks back on the first floor. Machi and Shizuku are the nearest after him, both stationed on the outskirts of the hotel to prevent reinforcements.</p><p>However, it seems that won’t be necessary, or at least not yet. Colevine’s shoulders slump and he heaves a deep sigh of surrender. “You wish to confirm my claims by seeing the items backing them?”</p><p>“Precisely.”</p><p>“And you’ll overlook this little… <em>snag </em>if they’re to your expectations?”</p><p>“Emphasis on the if, Mr. Colevine. You’ve made it rather difficult for me to believe you.”</p><p>He purses his lips and crinkles his nose. “You’ll find everything is as I said it was. Follow me.”</p><p>The bodyguards barely relax their posture when Colevine nods their head to them, remaining on high alert should he change his mind. This goes to show that the only respect Colevine can command is a result of signing paychecks.</p><p>Colevine gives Chrollo a once-over, who has seemingly been enjoying this tense interaction. “Though, might I ask your friend to stay behind? Three is a crowd, as they say.”</p><p>
  <em>More like you want to increase your chances of wriggling away.</em>
</p><p>“My associate stays,” you shut down his attempt before he can entertain it any longer.</p><p>Colevine smooths out the wrinkles of his suit and makes for a door that leads outside the ballroom, trying to hold onto the remaining shards of his battered pride.</p><p>It’s a notably silent walk to the vault he promises to hold the merchandise. The way he moves reminds you of a mouse — skittish and jumping at any unexpected noise or draft. How did he manage to make it this far with such a weak will? That and his poorly strung together get rich quick scheme. Really, claiming bankruptcy back home while collecting treasure in Yorbia… it’s a wonder he hasn’t already been found out before you happened along. Though, that might be in part due to your home country’s isolationist ways.</p><p>Rounding a sharp corner, you’re face to face with what must be the vault for his merchandise.</p><p>Colevine mutters to himself as he goes through the necessary security protocols to unlock the vault door. An eye scan, thumb scan, password input, and voice confirmation. The large steel door creaks open, revealing a room full of various treasures. Paintings, sculptures, jewelry preserved in glass boxes, thick books in languages you’ve never heard of before… Chrollo must surely be pleased.</p><p>“D-don’t you see? I was telling the truth!” Colevine hobbles to your side while Chrollo inspects the various goods up close. Everything here indeed looks expensive at first glance. Unfortunately for Colevine, you doubt your boss is going to let this opportunity slip by; so you wait to see what his next move will be.</p><p>“If memory serves, this would be a vase crafted by the artist Farhan Turner. I wonder if it’s authentic.” Chrollo hums, lifting a priceless vase and running his fingers over the intricate grooves. That sparkle in his normally dull eyes must mean he’s pleased.</p><p>Colevine takes a step forward but flinches when your head snaps at the abrupt movement. “Of course it’s authentic. Please… please be careful with that. That is easily worth one million Jenny.”</p><p>Neither of you pays him any mind. What Chrollo does with the merchandise from the heists isn’t any of your business. The reality of the situation comes crashing down on Colevine, who undoubtedly feels betrayed by your dishonesty.</p><p><em>“Tell me, does your friend know no manners?”</em> Colevine turns to speak to you in your shared mother tongue, Survosian. It’s nostalgic to hear the language of your home after being away for so long. He speaks with a rough accent, the words not flowing off his tongue, rather; tripping and falling out. How fitting.  </p><p>“Only in the company of those who deserve it,” is all you care to respond with.</p><p>He flushes a bright shade of red but doesn’t say much else.</p><p>“So, boss… how do you intend to transport all of this?” You do a sweeping motion to the surrounding room. Your Nen ability could store some of it, yes, but not everything. Then there’s the unspoken question of what to do with the sweating man standing next to you.</p><p>“How much do you think you can carry?” He hums, his smile widening at how you rapidly blink in surprise. <em>Oh, he’s probably joking,</em> you remind yourself. It’s still rather bizarre to you how at ease the members of the Phantom Troupe can be. Well, if he’s able to kid around about it, you assume he must’ve already figured that part out.</p><p>“You couldn’t possibly intend to take everything?” Colevine sputters, indignant at how casually it’s brought up without concern for his reaction.</p><p>Colevine slowly moves to reach for his pocket. Your reaction is immediate, Chrollo not bothering to pay him mind as he assumes you can deal with any defiance Colevine offers. Nen shrouds you like a thin veil, pulsating to life at the perceived threat. Reaching your hand out into nothingness, you move as if unsheathing a weapon; allowing a lightweight sword to materialize into your grasp. It emerges forth from wispy darkness, which coils around the hilt. <em>Good thing it wasn’t the lipstick, </em>you muse.</p><p>
  <em>Gate to The Beyond (Hell Within Reach). Set A.</em>
</p><p>Colevine’s eyes bulge almost comically when he senses a cold blade against his neck, the sharpness nicking his skin from surface contact alone.</p><p>“Just because you don’t use your head doesn’t mean you don’t need it,” you loosen your grip to allow for swift movements if necessary.</p><p>His perspiring hands twitch by his side and he scowls, darkness overshadowing his face. “I am expected to oversee the dealings for tonight. If I’m dead and if the promised merchandise isn’t here… not even your nobility will be enough to save you.”</p><p>That last comment must’ve been directed at you rather than Chrollo. It was meant as a latch ditch jab, you recognize, but it does anything but. Your heart swells in your chest at the thought. How nice of a sentiment, if only it was universally shared.</p><p>Chrollo’s Skill Hunter materializes into his hand and he flips to a specific page, ready to deal with Harden Colevine in whatever way he sees fit. You recognize what he summons as a Manipulator’s ability.</p><p>Chrollo takes a step forward. Colevine instinctually flinches away, only to stop when you press your blade into his skin as a warning.</p><p>“No one ever said anything about you dying.”</p>
<hr/><p>“Won’t you get in trouble?”</p><p>As if on cue, the shrill sound of Colevine’s wails pierces through the air from a few rooms over. Feitan was less than pleased to learn he’d been duped and saw fit to take his irritation out on the real Colevine, rather than his poor body double.</p><p>“I suppose that depends on your definition of trouble,” you ponder on Phinks’ question. “I’ve met his wife in passing, a rather shrewd businesswoman. If not for her dedication to acting innocent, I would expect a letter thanking us for ridding her of him.”</p><p>Phinks puts his beer down and raises an eyebrow. “She’s not gonna want revenge for her husband?”</p><p>He must be under the impression they were married for <em>love </em>rather than for <em>convenience</em>.</p><p>“Even if she did, it’s not like she’s going to have much to go off of,” Shalnark chimes in from his seat next to Phinks, the both of them sitting on the crates of merchandise. A realization hits him and he turns his attention to you. “Well, that is, unless she’s a Nen user.”</p><p>You dismiss the possibility. “The only threat she poses is her company.”</p><p>Shalnark laughs while Phinks shoots you an incredulous look.</p><p>“Did you somehow manage to get drunk while I wasn’t paying attention?” He asks, motioning to the unopened can of beer in your lap that Uvogin insisted you should take. “Or did I just hear you make a joke?”</p><p>“No, it was your imagination,” you deadpan, Phinks giving the possibility some consideration. It’d make more logical sense that way. The first time you met him, you had referred to him as Mr. Phinks, to which he almost had gone into a state of shock. It’s not uncommon for either Shalnark or Feitan to call him that when they’re trying to get a rise out of him. Speaking formally with the Troupe was a mistake you quickly learned to correct.</p><p>Everyone’s mood is collectively in high spirits after the successful heist. The Troupe currently resides in an abandoned building as a base of operations, something you’ve learned to be commonplace. The more talkative members stir up conversation with one another, drinking and telling stories. You’ve situated yourself towards the wall, hoping to dodge any drunken requests that might come your way.</p><p>Shalnark pulls out a set of cards. “Anyone down for blackjack?”</p><p>Phinks shrugs. “Not like there’s anything better to do. You in [First]?”</p><p>“I’ll pass, but I appreciate the offer.”</p><p>They head off to search for any willing participants.  </p><p>You decide it's an appropriate time to get some fresh air when Uvogin challenges Nobunaga to a drunken arm-wrestling match.</p><p>The boss hasn’t given the order to scatter, so you stay in the vicinity, situating yourself on the roof.</p><p>Phinks’ question from before echoes in your mind. It’s understandable to wonder such a thing, as you’re supposed to be held to a higher standard, considering your status abroad. This would be the first major crime that involved someone from your home country, even if he wasn’t a particularly notable person. The prospect of condemnation doesn’t bother you, but rather, the fact you still have failed to distance yourself from the shadow of your father does. There are thousands of miles between you now and he’s still prominent as ever.</p><p>“Would you mind if I joined you?”</p><p>Chrollo must’ve decided to sneak away from the boisterous celebration as well, not that you can blame him.</p><p>“If it pleases you,” you respond.</p><p>He takes a seat right next to you, far closer than you were expecting him to be. The cool night breeze rustles your hair and you pull your jacket closer for warmth. Normally, it’d be Machi who would quietly sit with you when things got too obnoxiously loud, but she had reluctantly agreed to play cards with the others. It occurs to you that you’ve spoken with Chrollo more today than you had over the past four months collectively.</p><p>The silence doesn’t last for long, Chrollo deciding to strike up some conversation for the second time today. “That expression of yours… forgive me for being presumptuous, but you look rather homesick.”</p><p>That sounds like a nice, simplistic way to describe it. You’re uncertain if that word alone can sum up everything that swells in your heart, however, it’s probably the closest thing to it. Craning your neck up, you inspect the few visible stars, the nearby city’s pollution making it more difficult to see than usual.</p><p>“Have you ever heard about The Mother’s Blessing?” You inquire. Chrollo furrows his eyebrows together and places his hand to his chin to ponder.</p><p>“If I’m not mistaken, that would be an annual celebration Survosians partake in,” he guesses, only continuing when you nod to confirm his statement as true. “Yes, I’ve heard of it. Admittedly, I’m not too familiar with the premise.”</p><p>Humming, you decide to give him some insight, figuring there’s no possible harm to be done with it. “It’s a time dedicated to celebrating the arts and the moon. This would be the first year I don’t attend in person, so… I found myself wondering how everything will go.”</p><p>“Did you enjoy the festivities?” Chrollo asks, his posture that of an acute listener. It encourages you to elaborate.  </p><p>“In a way. The Hunter Association sends over some of the Zodiacs for diplomatic reasons, to ensure Hunters are still granted access to the country. My family was on rotation alongside five others to oversee the Zodiac’s safety. From the moment they landed in Survosia to the moment they left, we’d be there.” You couldn’t figure out <em>why </em>exactly it was deemed necessary for strong Hunters to get a security detail, but it was never your job to ask those questions.</p><p>From the glint in Chrollo’s eyes, the irony must not be lost on him. “I wonder how many Blacklist Hunters you interacted with.”</p><p>“Probably quite a few.”</p><p>“I’d assume that means everyone gathers away from home for the duration of the festival,” Chrollo notes, and you’re quick to catch on to the possible implications. A thief speaking in that manner can only mean one thing. Well, if he wants to give it a shot, he must have a lot of bravery.</p><p>“You’d be assuming correctly,” you confirm. “It’d be a national embarrassment to the six leading families if anything went awry, so their efforts are entirely poured into security measures. Everything else is disregarded.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”</p><p>You’re not sure how you feel about that, but elect to keep that thought to yourself. It’s not like you’re obligated to care anymore.</p><p>Chrollo shifts the topic to something more lighthearted, noticing your apprehension. “Have you made any plans for when things here are concluded?”</p><p>The only thing that comes to mind is Phinks, who had asked if you’d join him on a job after the Troupe scatters. It sounded like a tedious endeavor, so you declined, leaving you with little else to do. For the first time in your life, you have no clear sense of direction. That’d be humiliating to admit to your boss, so you come up with something passable.</p><p>“I got an apartment in Yorknew City recently,” you inform, thinking back to how your plants have been doing in your absence. Hopefully, they haven’t wilted. “I’ll be heading back there.”</p><p>Chrollo likely already knows where each member of the Troupe resides, so you doubt this is new information to him.</p><p>Instead of responding immediately, he takes the time to study your expressions, scrutinizing every little detail. Did you say something amiss? You briefly recall every element of your conversation, trying to decipher what phrase or word could’ve been interpreted as offensive. Luckily, you don’t have to worry about it for long. Chrollo closes his eyes and chuckles, facing the direction of the city, where sirens are sounding loudly.</p><p>Tentatively, you raise your concern. “Is something the matter?”</p><p>“No, not in the slightest,” he dismisses, the skin underneath his eyes tightening. “A thought had just occurred to me.”</p><p>“And that is?”</p><p>A breeze blows by, Chrollo’s hair briefly obscuring his face, though not enough to cover his mischievous grin. You don’t know if you like the look of that.</p><p>“I’ve never seen you this talkative before. I hope I’ll get to see this side of you again, Lady [First].”</p><p>You awkwardly clear your throat at the usage of your formal title. At least he had enough kindness in his heart not to mention it when the others were around, or you’re certain that’d be haunting you until the near future. Chrollo’s got a point — you can’t remember the last time you spoke so much — and you frown. Ever the perceptive one, he catches your trepidation and clears the air.</p><p>“I apologize if I’ve embarrassed you. It’s not a bad thing, I rather like it.” Chrollo compliments, to which you stare unblinkingly.</p><p>The realization hits you like a ton of bricks and your heart speeds up accordingly.</p><p>“Oh,” is your ingenious response, too flabbergasted to think of anything else. His smile widens and he stands back up. You watch him head back inside with a lowered head, not wanting to embarrass yourself any further. Maybe it would’ve been a better idea to stay with the others after all, you lament. Making a fool of yourself in front of your boss was the last thing you wanted to do.</p><p>“One more thing,” Chrollo turns on his heel as if remembering something important. “I have some business in Yorknew myself. Are you familiar with the city?”</p><p>Well, it’s been where you’ve lived for over half a year. “I know enough to get around.”</p><p>“How convenient. I’ll be arriving there in a few days, can I expect your assistance?”</p><p>There’s little in this world that can throw you for a loop at this point, or at least you thought. The Phantom Troupe’s boss always disappeared into thin air after heists were concluded. To think he’s not only telling you where he’s going to be but is personally requesting your help comes as a shock.</p><p>Your other plans consisted of training and possibly accepting a stray job here and there when you got bored enough. With this in mind, you nod your head and add, “Of course. Please contact me whenever.”</p><p>“I’ll do just that. Be sure to stay safe during your travels, [First].”</p><p>“Ah, you do the same.”</p><p>He waves goodbye and heads back inside.</p><p>With that, he’s gone, leaving you with a warm face and pounding heart.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>There are a lot of things you’ve learned in your time away from home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Regular, mundane aspects of life that you’d never given a second thought to became important to learn and master. No longer were your meals hand-delivered to you by diligent staff, your suite cleaned while you were away on a job, or your laundry done and neatly put back into place for when you needed it next. These were skills expected of someone your age that you were never taught. You’re still able to find the humor in it. The second daughter of the revered Lord Victor Avalor, one of the most prestigious families in Survosia, accidentally mixing whites with colored clothes and having to purchase a new wardrobe. Granted, it <em>was </em>a valuable learning experience, one that you won’t be forgetting anytime soon.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Who thought it a good idea to add a hot water option, anyways?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’d be easy enough to hire maids and a chef, as your eldest sister suggested at your lamenting, but you weren’t going to be bested by menial tasks. That would be an insult to your pride. No, you’ll learn how to make a proper omelet (which tends to become a scrambled egg when you go to flip it…) if it’s the last thing you do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’ve made a decent amount of progress in learning how regular life is supposed to work. Of course, keeping up with your training and maintaining your combat technique is a must, but the rush that comes with purchasing a new potted plant for your living room is addicting. Your apartment is colorful and filled to the brim with life, a far cry from your clinical room back at home which you rarely spent any time at in between assignments.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This is the first time you’ve understood the saying home is where the heart is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Butterflies flutter about in your stomach when you take a step back, appraising the latest addition to your quaint home. An anthurium, gifted to you by Pakunoda as a housewarming gift, sits atop the window sill. You faintly recall the note that was attached to it that you saw when returning from your morning jog. It was written in cursive with a high-quality pen, faintly smelling of her vanilla perfume.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Congratulations on your new home. A set of kitchen knives and a cutting board will be arriving within the next week, please remember not to use a sword to dice food until then.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Best wishes,</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>-Pakunoda</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You remind yourself to call and thank her later. The sword memory is one you <em>try </em>not to dwell on, as it’d be too humiliating otherwise. Pakunoda had been giving you cooking lessons so you’d stop living off of takeout a few months back. Needless to say, there was a look of unparalleled surprise on her face when she asked you to chop some vegetables, only for you to conjure your sword to do so. It… made sense at the time. You could make clean, precise cuts through human flesh, why not use the same skill set for a tomato?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She had enough kindness in her heart not to tell anyone else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>An unknown number pops up on your phone’s screen, interrupting your content daydreaming. You accept after a moment’s hesitation and speak up before the other line can introduce themselves, already guessing who it could be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is it a good idea for you to still be in contact with me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your sit your phone on the granite kitchen countertop, along with an array of other indoor plants that need maintenance. The leaf in your hand looks to be in good health, boasting a vibrant green hue, so you move on to inspect the other stems while awaiting an answer.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A deceptively serene and mature voice appears from your speaker. “You’re the one answering the call each time.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s got you there. Ignoring your elder sister left a bitter taste in your mouth, no matter how tempted you were to reject her sporadic calls. Hearing her gave a sense of normalcy — not that you want to tell her that as it’d go straight to her head — it made you feel like nothing was wrong. Should you close your eyes and just listen, you could picture Estella as if she was right in front of you. Her practiced smile, the dimples on her face she used to fret over growing up, how mature her aura was. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She and your younger sibling Ash are the only people you miss from home. You haven't spoken with Ash since your “banishment”, as you felt it’d be best if they didn’t know the true reasoning behind it. Only Estella and your father know the situation for what it is. Everyone else has simply been told you’re working abroad to save them the embarrassment of admitting your disobedience.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You frown at the way your stomach painfully churns. No matter how much you tell yourself not to dwell on it, your heart doesn’t follow your head’s command.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you still there? I haven’t got much time, regrettably. My duties have been increased tenfold, a feat I hadn’t thought possible.” Estella sighs over the line.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Right, my bad,” you snip away a dead branch. “How are things there?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Chaotic. Some of the staff are already trying to wriggle out of working during The Mother’s Blessing, which wouldn’t normally be a problem, but…” She trails off and you manage to get the idea. Due to you not being there, Estella has had to scramble and occupy your place alongside what’s already expected of her. She fills the social role. Intermingling with important visiting figures, charming them with her beauty and wit, all for the sake of securing further connections and maintaining appearances.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your job, on the other hand, was a far less picturesque one. Whatever it was that your father required, you’d see it done without hesitation. Whether it was blackmail, hijacking, kidnapping, or any other activity of dubious morality, nothing was sacred if it meant furthering your family’s influence and power. You had wondered who would be forced into making up your absence, it’s a shame Estella has to carry that extra burden on her shoulders. Her hands aren’t entirely clean, but they’re still nowhere near as tainted as yours.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Placing your pruning shears down, you stretch your arms above your head and sigh. “I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it if I were you, no one has dared sabotage Mother’s Blessing in centuries. Remember all the times we complained about how out of proportion the security measures felt?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, there <em>have </em>been rumors circulating that The Hunter Association is planning to present new conditions to the government. Hunters are only able to stay in Survosia on a limited travel visa and they want to amend that. The chairman is even sending over that <em>insufferable</em>— I mean, <em>dedicated</em>, Pariston Hill for negotiations.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You almost feel bad for having the urge to laugh. “You’re more than welcome at my place should you ever grow weary of it all.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How sweet of you,” you can practically hear her strained smile. “Nevermind all that. I have a different purpose for this call.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not just to complain about The Hunter Association?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“While I have no shortage of grievances with them, no, that wasn’t the primary reason. Rather…” she trails off and takes in a sharp breath. That doesn’t bode well with you. “[First].”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t you think it’s time to come home?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It has remained an unspoken rule that neither of you would broach this taboo topic. You thought Estella to be better with social subtleties, there’s no way she would walk this potential minefield unless the circumstances were dire. This was inevitable, you reason with yourself, not wanting to needlessly lash out at her. As much as you wish your dilemma with your father existed in a vacuum, that isn’t how reality works. Others were bound to get caught up in the storm between you both, being pulled beneath the waves and drowning during the duel of patience.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You force yourself to speak in an unnervingly calm and even voice. “Estella. I believe I’ve made my stance clear.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And you’ve gone to extremes to do so,” she readily agrees, her voice growing softer in volume. “It’s almost been an entire year, little sister. Enough’s enough. You’ve proven your point. Father’s told me himself that he’s open to renegotiating—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>Renegotiating</em>? There is nothing to renegotiate here. It’s either he nulls the arrangements or I’ll stay marooned abroad until I take my dying breath.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Estella clicks her tongue, her pleasant façade threatening to crack. “Father has always expected things of us that we didn’t understand at first, yet it always worked out for the greater good. Times are changing. We can’t expect to have everything we want, those are the wishes of a naïve child. You should know better.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your heart almost leaps from your chest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If it is your desire to be sold off in marriage to the highest bidder, then by all means, do so. I have no intention of allowing myself nor Ash to be subjected to the same fate.” You snap, acid pouring forth without concern for the bridges it may corrode. <em>She brought this upon herself, </em>you remind yourself through gritted teeth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bloodlust threatens to ooze out from your pores, bitterness coiling around your heart and suffocating you from the inside out. Your fingers twitch by your side, longing to placate the urges driven by disgust and betrayal, memories of your final conversation with your father resurfacing. Why is it that they sound so alike? Since when did Estella’s goals eclipse his so blatantly?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It is a duty that we must fulfill. Stop running away from reality.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’ve had enough of this conversation. Should it continue any longer, you wouldn’t be able to contain the bloodlust that’s boiling in your blood. “If there’s nothing essential that requires my attention, I’m going to get going. You said it yourself, you’re a busy woman, I won’t impose any longer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“[First] Avalor, don’t you <em>dare </em>hang up this—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You press the red button and fling your phone onto the couch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The untamable hellfire known as fury consumes you in a merciless blaze. You force yourself to take deep breaths, commanding your body to act at your behest once more and squeeze your eyes shut. Feelings like this are exhaustive and ultimately pointless. Getting upset won’t do anything for you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Tell me, where did all this unsightly defiance come from?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Just what could have brought brought this on? These things don’t happen overnight.”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“I’d hate to think you were hiding something from me, child. Is your family not what matters most?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your knuckles ache from how hard you ball your hands into fists, your nails threatening to pierce the skin of your palms. The voice of your father reverberates in your mind — a taunting mantra that wants nothing more than to strip your autonomy away — the sound far worse than any shrill cry. Damn Estella for doing this to you. Did she really think you’d be moved that easily? And here you thought she was checking in on you out of sisterly love, not a thinly veiled agenda. You’ll be sure to remember that.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a buzzing sound that has you considering impaling your phone altogether. However, when you examine the screen, it’s not Estella who is calling.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s your boss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A public park in Yorknew is the last place you expected Chrollo Lucilfer to meet you at. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Taxi, taxi! Anyone need a taxi?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Last call for the museum trolley! We’ll be leaving with or without you in ten!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Fresh hotdogs! Come get your fresh hotdogs!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Vendors of varying goods and services sing a siren’s song to lure the attention of tourists, whereas the locals walk around them without exercising discreteness. The different sounds of city life travel throughout the air. From the chatter of people on their phones, police sirens whirring in the distance, to car horns blaring accompanied by vulgar language. Yorknew’s colorful atmosphere aids with blending in. No individual pays strangers any serious thought, as long as said strangers keep to themselves. Faces are but a blur in the mind seconds after seeing them, voices are long forgotten in the noise that is the city.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The events from a few hours ago are fresh on your mind. Fortunately, if there’s anything you’re good at, it’s compartmentalization. Work always takes precedence over any flimsy emotions that might try to hinder you. The last thing you need is to slip up in front of your boss, which would make everything infinitely worse. You’ve elected to try and shove everything down into your subconscious until a later time, or even better, forget all about it if possible.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long,” Chrollo greets, taking a seat next to you on the park bench. There haven’t been many times you’ve seen him in broad daylight, and it’s just now you’re realizing what a shame that is. Already it feels better to have an objective to focus on rather than brooding in your thoughts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You straighten your posture at his approach, crossing your legs and holding your head high. “Don’t concern yourself with it, bo— <em>ahem</em>, my apologies. What is it I should call you…?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Chrollo works just fine,” he corrects. Then, mischief flashes over his face. “Or, you can always call me your associate again. Either works for me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He must be referring to your improv stunt two weeks ago. You don’t let yourself dwell in embarrassment. “While that is tempting, I’ll stick with your name. Chrollo it is then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This new development seems to please him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How are you finding life in the city?” He shifts the conversation to you, choosing a casual topic rather than going straight to whatever job he has in mind. Ah, that’s right. This is just how Chrollo is.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s certainly interesting to watch. The people here are far more… bold. Very honest about everything on their mind.” You glance over your surroundings, settling on a woman who’s haggling a salesman for supposedly overselling his stock. The two are deadlocked in a heated argument, exchanging curses with either side, indifferent to the judgment of the people passing by.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You then think to add, “I like it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I remember you saying something similar about the Troupe when you first met them,” Chrollo recalls. You think back to the time in question. When hearing a daunting name such as <em>The Phantom Troupe</em>, it commands a very specific image. There has never been solid information on the group, shrouding them in mysteries and folklore, almost to the point of sensationalization. All anyone ever knew for certain is that they’re thieves who stop at nothing to get what they want, uncaring of the body count that is amassed along the way. The same can be said for your expectations. You had anticipated a serious, tight-lipped group of professionals before Chrollo’s initial introduction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>While they are indeed professional, outside of jobs, most of them have boisterous personalities. To say you were baffled would be an understatement. Chrollo fit the classic image of a thief quite well: a charismatic, skilled individual capable of talking his way into or out of anything. The scene you walked into appeared standard enough. They were silently awaiting your introduction and closely evaluated your every word and movement.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was after that was concluded when things took an unexpected turn.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shalnark and Phinks teased Nobunaga about his horrid dating luck, Uvogin and Franklin ruminated on what to do about their favorite drink company shutting down, Shizuku came up to you and asked who you were again. It felt like a discussion between a closely-knit group of friends rather than a ruthless band of marauders. <em>Eccentric </em>is the word you decided upon to describe them. There were, of course, other members that were pleasant and normal enough to hold a conversation with. You’re grateful for the balance they provide, otherwise it’d be rather hectic. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t think Shizuku would forget me in ten minutes.” You had almost considered wearing a nametag the third time she asked. At the very least, she had been apologetic and polite about it each time. You couldn’t stay mad at her even if you tried.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can you keep a secret?” Chrollo asks, instantly gaining your attention.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You consider it. “I’d say so.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His eyes crinkle in amusement. “I believe Shal had bribed her to test your patience.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It sounds like something he would do, a comment you decide to keep to yourself. They never would’ve openly expressed it, but you knew they were observing closely to see if you were deserving of being a Spider. Chrollo had appreciated your abilities and potential, yet they wanted to see it for themselves. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll be sure not to take it personally then,” you respond. Shizuku has since successfully remembered who you are, so all’s well that ends well. That still wasn’t as bad as the dreaded Mr. Phinks mishap, which you’ve yet to fully recover from, much to yours and his dismay. You can only hope that with time that’ll be forgotten.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you think we were capable of pulling a job off successfully?” Chrollo inquires, enjoying the lighthearted reminiscing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There was no questioning their strength,” you give your honest assessment. “When you put an objective forward, I could tell it’d be seen through.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s rather kind of you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You break away from his stare, finding it too heavy. “It’s just the truth.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Before Chrollo gets the opportunity to respond, a kid who looks to be by himself skitters up to you both. One glance is all it takes to recognize he’s been roughing it on the streets. His clothes are tattered, his hair patchy and unkempt, and his gaze shamefully downcast. He speaks in a shaky voice, more so to you than Chrollo.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Uh, miss… I’m s-sorry to be a bother, but… do you have any spare change?” He moves his weight from one foot to the other, visibly anxious.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I believe I do,” you reply, the boy’s face lighting up as you rummage through your purse for your wallet. All the while, Chrollo leans against your side and wraps an arm tightly around your shoulders. You freeze at the unexpected physical contact and shoot him a quizzical look. He just smiles and motions for you to continue your prior task.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You hand the boy most of what you had in your wallet, around 5,000 Jenny. He gapes with wide, doe-like eyes, staring at the money in disbelief and then back to you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A-all of this? Are you sure?” He trembles, to which you nod.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The boy gives you an abundance of verbal gratitude before scampering off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo raises a questioning eyebrow. “I never took you for a saint.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He was too surprised to give a proper signal,” your eyes shift towards a not so subtle group of men in your peripheral vision, who are trying (and failing) to suppress their presence. “Though, I am quite curious… how would an infamous thief rate their strategy?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The scissor cut holes in his overalls were a nice touch, it gains extra sympathy points, as does the sheepish demeanor. The kid did everything he needed to on a passable level. Whoever he’s working with, however, requires more practice. They’ve been blatantly ogling you since you sat down.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>One of the men in question walks behind the bench in a last-ditch effort. He curses underneath his breath when Chrollo tightens his grip on your arm, purse strap included. The scent of his rich cologne paired with his face being so close to yours causes heat to rise to your cheeks. You silently hope that he’s too inundated with the conversation and situation to notice, but you know someone as perceptive as Chrollo would likely catch it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He only moves away from you when the man is long gone.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Perhaps this wasn’t the best place to meet,” he smiles apologetically. “Though, you’re bound to attract attention anywhere in public.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You furrow your eyebrows at his comment, perplexed. “I’m wearing the clothes standard in Yorbia, aren’t I?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a brief moment where neither of you dares utter a word. Chrollo opens his lips, only to close them again, deciding against whatever it was he initially thought to say. He covers his mouth with the back of his hand to muffle his chuckle. The enjoyment he’s deriving from this little interaction goes beyond pretending, it’s genuine.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What I meant is that you’re rather eye-catching,” Chrollo explains, your brain unsure of whether or not to register that as a compliment. It certainly sounds like one, but the matter-of-fact tone he’s using throws you off. What would Estella do in this situation? She’d probably give a coquettish laugh and lean forward, just enough to give a glimpse of her cleavage, responding with a flirtation of her own in a husky voice. Or wait, does the laugh come before or after...? You never cared enough to pay close attention during her lectures on proper, ladylike conduct, and now you’re regretting it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe it’s you that they’re looking at?” You suggest, tilting your head. Chrollo has to give himself some credit here, anyone with a set of eyes could tell he’s unfairly handsome. Your lack of shame and the sincerity in your statement takes him aback. There’s never a dull moment when you’re together, you decide. From heists to conversations in a public park. It’s unlike you to get so drawn into a conversation that work goes out of focus, but the way Chrollo acts with you doesn’t help. His nature seems to require delving into the psyches of those around him, and he’s admittedly rather proficient at it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you saying that I’m good-looking, [First]?” He teases.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you saying <em>I </em>am?” You challenge, to which Chrollo laughs, putting his hands up in defense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Touché.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>His laugh sounds nice,</em> you think. For a moment, you wonder if you’re under a Manipulator’s thrall, too absorbed with taking in Chrollo’s features to act natural. You feel more like a high school girl with a crush on a senior than a twenty-year-old speaking with The Phantom Troupe’s leader. This is the charm that keeps the members from eating one another alive, the glue that holds the spider together. It was enough to gain your attention and approval, something easier said than done. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You order yourself to keep this <em>strictly </em>at admiration, otherwise, wounds that are still healing would be opened once more. <em>Just admiration</em>. Nothing else. No attachment, attachment is tricky and weird and never ends well. Why does it feel so warm all of a sudden? Did the weather get hotter in the few minutes you’ve been outside? </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You decide to move on from the subject before you say anything you’ll regret. “So, this job… has to do with a person in Yorknew?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Liborio Rizzo is his name,” he shows you a blurry picture of a man with tanned skin and brown hair, wearing a standard suit and tie. “He’s hoping to rise in the mafia community that’s established here in Yorknew. One of the art pieces we stole from a previous excursion is a favorite of a high-ranking member’s daughter and the amount he’s offering to get it back is hefty. It’s bound to attract attention.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How much is he offering?” You ask, attempting to piece together the puzzle Chrollo is presenting you with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“One billion Jenny.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“For which piece?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A silver and emerald necklace worn by an actress in the early 1930s.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s rather excessive,” you point out, to which he nods. “He’s either hoping to lure a Spider out with that offer… or encourage others to go on the hunt to get it.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m inclined to agree. Whatever the case, I’d prefer to not leave this matter unsettled.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He takes your silence as a sign to continue. “The Spider will always have a target on its back, such is the nature of what we do. Other than the pursuit of glory and some small-time bounties, there’s never been such a clear incentive to risk going after us, until this. That’s why I’ve arranged to meet with Liborio in a few hours.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The man must be ridiculously brave or profoundly stupid for having created this challenge. You’ve yet to meet him, but you’re leaning towards the latter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So, that being said,” Chrollo’s gray eyes bore deep into yours. “How do you feel about accompanying me? I thought you’d be the best option, seeing as you’re the closest member to Yorknew.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It wouldn’t make a difference if it was halfway across the globe or a walk across the street. When you receive an order, you’ll carry it out until the bitter end.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Give me a time and a place and I’ll be there.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Profoundly stupid was the correct guess,</em> you muse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s a pitiful scene. While torture was more of Feitan’s specialty, you weren’t exactly an amateur, and neither was Chrollo. Chrollo’s book of stolen Nen abilities contained Hatsu that was the workings of nightmares. Flesh consuming fish, an ability that rendered opponents unable to blink, another where the oxygen in their bloodstream decreased as time went on. Truly interesting stuff at his disposal. Watching him in action is a treat, you decide, having rarely seen Chrollo in combat. Aside from when you first met him, that is. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So you never personally came in contact with the person?” You repeat Liborio’s story back to him, scanning his physiological reaction for signs of dishonesty. There are no blatant contradictions in his explanation, yet you can never be too thorough with these things, especially when it relates to the lives of the other Troupe members.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I swear on my life,” he sputters, trying his best to hold your frigid stare. “They contacted me over the computer. Voice modification, pixelated face, the whole nine yards! Said everything I needed to do, right down to the amount for the necklace. Everything was <em>their </em>idea.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Why did you agree to their conditions?” Chrollo inquires.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Liborio swallows thickly and lowers his head in shame. “Whoever the bastard was… they had some bad shit on me. They said they’d leak it to the top brass should I not comply. I never would’ve thought it’d end up like this…!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell me,” the head of your conjured spear is pressed right against Liborio’s pounding heart, threatening to pierce it at any second. “How did you think this would go?”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His hair, once neatly slicked back with copious amounts of gel, is stuck to his perspiring forehead. Liborio violently heaves with each breath of air his lungs manage to get. Yours and Chrollo’s visit had just begun, and you could already tell he was at his wit’s end. There’s no way a cowardly fool like this would’ve felt so empowered to make a move against The Phantom Troupe. No, there’s something else at play here. You’re certain Chrollo thinks the same by the silent intensity in his gaze.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Answer me,” you apply enough pressure for the spear to puncture his skin, blood running from the fresh wound and staining his polyester suit. He hisses at the sensation and struggles against his Nen restraints to no avail. Snake-like coils that press harder against the chest the more you struggle, another ability Chrollo had stolen, hold him in a vise-like grip.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I never dreamed that you guys would take it seriously!” He shrieks, ceasing his struggling when you pull your spear back.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You look to Chrollo who is holding Skill Hunter in his hand. “What do you think?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“He’s been kept in the dark,” Chrollo replies. Liborio sighs shakily, likely grateful that the two of you are finally believing his sob story. “However, that doesn’t change the fact he’s involved.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At this, Liborio struggles against his restraints once again, the air being forced from his lungs as the restraints coil tight enough to indent and bruise his skin. He coughs up blood from the immense pressure being applied to his body. There’s no doubting that he isn’t a Nen user. When you and Chrollo first approached him, he had pulled out a measly handgun, pointing it at you first.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The hand he was holding it with has been shredded beyond recognition by your blade. Stringy flesh, bone marrow, and blood gush out from where it once was, making for a ghastly sight. The blood loss he’s sustaining will be fatal if left untreated, not that either of you cares much for his fate. He put a target on the Spider’s head and is now facing the consequences.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>However, whoever orchestrated this is the real concern, not Liborio. He’s likely told you everything he has to say. It’s not a lot to go on, but it’s better than nothing. You’ll bring his laptop to Shalnark and see if he could trace the calls back to the actual culprit. That leaves just a single question, that you likely already know the answer to, but you ask just in case.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What should we do with him, boss?” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo pauses to consider your question. He assesses Liborio, who stares at him with bulging and glassy eyes, shaky lips trying oh so hard to force the word <em>please </em>out. The book in his hand is shut, echoing throughout Liborio’s spacious apartment. Chrollo promptly goes to get his leather jacket and walks for the door, while you watch Liborio drop to the ground from his kitchen chair and desperately gasp for air. He massages his sore throat and gags, seconds away from tasting his dinner again. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo puts his arm through his jacket sleeve. “Take care of him for me. Don’t bother setting it up as an accident; let them know that we’re well aware.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your weapon is readied immediately.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Understood.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And with that, you thrust your spear through Liborio’s heart, his screams for forgiveness and mercy falling on deaf ears.</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>more worldbuilding + chrollo and reader bonding &lt;333 the chaotic neutral duo.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. III</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>This could be it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A moment of unequivocal triumph, the finest redemption, history in the making. Spatula in hand, you ever so carefully tuck the head underneath the sizzling egg. You dare not breathe as you lift it, your eyes hyper-focused on the flimsy thin layer. This is it. It’s now or never. Utilizing your newfound culinary training, the omelet is flipped, and it manages to stay together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Had it not been for your guest, you would’ve cheered loudly for this newfound accomplishment. For now, you’ll settle on an internal celebration, a content smile on your face as you transfer your breakfast onto a plate. Chrollo had since moved since you last saw him. He’s taking in the various decorations of your living room, appraising each detail with his eyes. You let him do as he pleases, too enraptured by your successful omelet flip to care about anything else.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The Troupe had been informed of the situation, and as a precautionary measure, told to pair up and avoid going anywhere alone. Since you were the member in closest physical proximity to Chrollo, that meant you were paired up with him; thus why your boss is perusing your apartment like it was an everyday occurrence. While waiting for data analysis on the laptop from Shalnark, there wasn’t much to be done, other than pursuing leads on whoever is hellbent on targeting the Troupe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Once you finish your breakfast and clean up, you walk over to see what it is that stole Chrollo’s attention. It feels like the air has been forced from your lungs when you realize he’s staring at a family photo, more specifically, one with you and your siblings in it. In your hasty packing before getting dumped in the Gordeau Desert, you had grabbed this picture and shoved it with your other few belongings from home.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t realize you had two sisters,” Chrollo muses, picking the frame up and examining it closer. It could be your imagination, but you <em>swear </em>his eyes linger on your form, which had been sandwiched in between Ash to your left and Estella to your right. Estella had picked out your outfit that day, a classy pearl white dress with a sweetheart neckline that stopped just after your knees. She insisted that you didn’t wear your armor like you intended to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“One sister,” you correct, pointing at Estella who stood a few inches taller than you. In this instance, she had worn a sky blue dress accentuated by a corset and a long skirt. Her hair, a similar shade to yours, cascaded down behind her back in glossy waves. “This is Estella. She’s four years my senior.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Next, you point to Ash. You remember how standoffish they had been about Estella’s desire for a family photo session. They truthfully stated that none of you had similar fashion senses and that it was a waste of time, but still showed up in the estate’s gardens perfectly on time. They had worn an indigo blazer with a matching skirt and white shirt, their hair styled as it always was in two high buns.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You can’t help but smile at the nostalgic sight. “And this would be my youngest sibling, Ash. They turned fourteen last October.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo nods. “You seem fond of them.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Naturally,” you reply, pride swelling in your chest. “They’re quite the virtuoso, believe it or not. An unmatched prodigy with the violin.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He puts the picture back in its proper place. “I’d love to hear them play one day.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What about your older sister?” He must have caught onto your lack of comment for Estella. Naturally, someone as perceptive as Chrollo wouldn’t let any detail slip by unnoticed, much to your chagrin. What is the best way to describe her without sounding critical?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She’s beautiful, if not a touch creepy,” you admit, memories of a particular crimson night flitting by in your head like the reels of a film. “I don’t know how to deal with people like her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your relationship with Estella has always been a turbulent mix between hot and cold. She took it upon herself to assume the maternal figure for both you and Ash at your mother’s passing. You had let her play matriarch to her heart’s content, only to regret not nipping it in the bud sooner when peculiar behaviors rose to the surface. The best way to deal with her overbearing behavior was keeping her at arm’s reach, you decided, a choice she didn’t take kindly to. You’re both adults and can still manage to be civil with each other, but that’s as far as you allow it to go.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo’s quick to notice your restlessness and changes the subject. “Ah, I have yet to mention. While you were cooking breakfast, I received a message from Feitan. He caught the person that’s been shadowing him and is in the process of interrogation.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That makes three,” you frown, placing a hand to your chin. Uvogin and Phinks had noticed they were being followed and killed their pursuers within the past twenty-four hours. “At least whoever we’re dealing with isn’t working as a cohesive unit.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He walks back to the sofa and sits down, sipping on the tea you brewed him. “Shalnark has noted the sharp increase in bounties against the Troupe the past few weeks. Now even just information on a possible member’s location is fetching a sizable price.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>What a pain,</em> you think. The less skilled people were the first to skulk out of the woodworks, with their clumsy Zetsu and lackluster tailing abilities. It’s what you consider the calm before the storm. Hunters that could be considered a threat would lie in waiting, patiently observing, and taking in information before attempting an attack, unlike their daft counterparts. Essentially, the longer this went on, the worse things would get.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you going to reconvene the Troupe?” You ask, hoping he doesn’t take offense to your attempt to gather information. When you were working for your father in the past, it was an unspoken rule not to speak more than necessary, and to simply do as you're told without complaint. Chrollo didn’t seem to mind inquiries and even encouraged them. You haven’t gotten used to the open style of communication yet, but you can already tell you prefer it. It makes you feel like he respects your experience and subsequent feedback.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not this early into things,” he shakes his head. “I’d prefer they lure out the stragglers and deal with it where they are. When we have a more solid idea of what we’re up against, that’s when I’ll make the call.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s not a plan you find any faults with. You’re now waiting on two members to give potential leads, Shalnark with Liborio’s laptop and Feitan with the poor bastard he’s currently torturing, so it’s not like you have nothing to work with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo sits his teacup down. “Are you ready to go?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you are,” you reply, going to pick his empty cup up. He stops you before you get the chance to pick it up and insists on cleaning it himself, walking over to the kitchen. You put on your beige trench coat while he runs it under the sink. The plan for today is for the two of you to wander around the city to entice any potential attackers. You haven’t noticed anyone following you yet, meaning that either no one’s trying or whoever might be is concealing their presence well. Whatever the case, it feels better to have something to do rather than waiting around all day for information.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You go down to the apartment complex’s lobby together. For some reason, you think about how domestic it feels. Any passerby would likely look at the two of you and consider you both intimate—</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is everything alright?” Chrollo asks, patiently holding the door open for you. You nod and promptly speed up, walking onto the crowded streets and praying that the fresh air will help clear your muddled head. These are the dangerous types of thoughts that land you in trouble. Sure, Chrollo exchanges playful banter with you every now and then, but such is his nature. It doesn’t help that you get flustered easily around people you’re familiar with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where to?” Chrollo requests, sticking close to your side to prevent losing you in the crowded streets.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I have a few places in mind,” you call back, expertly weaving through the crowd and remaining on high alert. It doesn’t feel like anyone is watching you both. You work your way to an area that is slightly less crowded and Chrollo follows suit, hands in his pocket.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You arrive at a crosswalk just after the light turns red. In true Yorknew fashion, some pedestrians still try to cross, the people in their cars not taking kindly to such an unforgivable slight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Miss!” An older gentleman waves sporadically in an attempt to gain your attention. You turn around and point to yourself, ensuring that it was you he was calling out to. He shuffles a deck of cards in his hand and waves you over. On a normal day, you would’ve kept walking, but decide to hear him out. Other than openly putting a target on your back and waiting to see who would take the bait, you’re trying to burn time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, I finally managed to flag someone down,” he smiles at your approach and readjusts his cheap-looking top hat. “Allow me to properly introduce myself, benevolent stranger. I am Ephiar, a herald of the mystic arts, also known as a magician to you regular folk.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You and Chrollo exchange brief looks at the word magician. <em>That’s a piece of terminology I could go without hearing,</em> you think with a shudder.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The supposed herald of mystic arts turns his attention to Chrollo and winks. “Mind if I borrow your lovely girlfriend for but a second?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Only if I’m able to get her back in one piece,” Chrollo responds with a cheeky smile, much to your blatant disbelief. He’s just going to roll with that one, huh? Charismatic people will be the death of you one day. You remind yourself that he isn’t being serious to calm the way your heart starts to pound.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course, good sir, I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” he tips his hat, clearly eager to display whatever magic trick is up his sleeve. You can’t help but find it somewhat endearing. The man looked to be pushing his seventies, and while you’ve never been the best judge of character, you sense no ill intent. “Alright then! Pick a card, any card.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Ephiar shuffles through his deck and fans the cards out, placing them face down.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>He must be a novice,</em> you muse, reaching out and pointing to a card on the far left side. At his confirmation, you lift the card, revealing it to be a red three of diamonds. Once you and Chrollo get a good look at it, you carefully put it in a different spot and await further instruction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I will now use my knowledge of clairvoyance to reveal your choice,” he closes his eyes, muttering something underneath his breath and waving his hands over the deck. “Yes, yes, I see… it was… a six of clubs!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re not sure how the mix-up occurred, but he’s looking at you with bated breath and sparkling eyes. It’s a split-second decision to not crush his hopes by nodding excitedly and clapping. Ephiar takes it as having successfully pulled off the trick and smiles widely, doing a wide bow and bashfully accepting your praise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When you part ways, Chrollo waits until he’s out of earshot to express his amusement. “Don’t you think you went easy on him?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I felt bad,” you admit, scratching your cheek. “You could’ve always said something.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I was far more curious in seeing what you would do,” Chrollo confirms what you’d suspected to begin with. You’re getting a better sense of how he operates in the time you’ve spent together. When not working, he prefers to take the role of a passive observer, studying the world around him and tucking the knowledge away. You can’t fathom why he’s taken such an acute interest in you and assume it’s just because he doesn’t know you as well as the other members. It’s easier to work with people you know well, after all. There’s more trust placed in each other from having gone through many experiences together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The remainder of the afternoon is spent walking the many streets of Yorknew without any notable developments. It was so uneventful that Chrollo suggested a friendly game, one that you hurriedly agreed to before boredom threatened to settle in. The idea is that every time either of you sees someone being pickpocketed, you’ll take count, and later compare numbers. You find it to be a nice way to remain vigilant.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now, you’re both sitting underneath an umbrella at an outdoor cafe, the sun high in the sky and beating down relentlessly. Without a breeze, it manages to warm up enough that you remove your jacket, Yorknew’s asphalt roads allowing heat to gather. Chrollo had once again struck up a conversation to pass the time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You used to not like fiction?” Chrollo questions, and you’re quick to defend yourself. It’s no secret that your boss is a fan of literature — specifically, the classics that all fall under fiction — so you don’t want him to get the wrong impression.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I didn’t see the point when I was younger,” you confess, stirring your lemonade, ice cubes clinking in the process. “It felt like a waste of time that could’ve been better spent elsewhere. Nonfiction, of course, gives you useful information. Stuff that you might use at some point or another.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You rest your chin on your hand. “I grew out of that phase. There’s still value to be had from fiction, it’s just a different kind. I can appreciate it now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m relieved to hear you say that,” he takes a sip of his drink of choice, unsweetened iced tea. “Until you clarified yourself, I thought about revoking your membership.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t know why, but the way he says it so seriously while smiling manages to get to you. The back of your hand rushes to cover your mouth, a small giggle leaving your lips, that grows into a full-blown laugh. Chrollo freezes in his spot, taking in your unexpected reaction as if he was trying to immortalize it into his mind. He stares at you with slightly widened eyes until you settle down, heat rising to your face at the uncontrolled reaction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You both start speaking at the same time and stop just as fast. Clearing your throat, you motion for him to continue with your hand, taking a big sip of your tangy lemonade.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo shifts ever so slightly in his seat. “I believe that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you laugh.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Oh oh, oh no, oh no. This sensation of not being totally in control is enough to drive you mad. Your basic human functions have taken over, shoving your logic and reasoning into the backseat, fully set on embarrassing you as much as possible. This is further accentuated by your inability to respond coherently, the words dying on your tongue immediately. Why is he looking at you like this, with that softness in his eyes? Are you imagining it? Is it a Nen ability at work? Maybe pity? Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you silently tap your foot beneath the table.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m sure I have once or twice,” is your weak response. Chrollo is hellbent on flustering you, for whatever godforsaken reason, leaning forward and making it known he won’t be dropping this anytime soon. Not when you’re getting worked up this easily for him. It’d be an injustice not to see how far he could push his luck.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you warming up to me, [First]?” He teases, and you momentarily consider fleeing the situation altogether.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Hold your ground,</em> you tell yourself, unwilling to go down without a fight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m not sure about that,” you pretend to be in deep thought, your lips quirking up at how he raises an eyebrow. Your formally sheepish demeanor shifts into a more coquettish one. “I think you might need to try a <em>little </em>harder.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Is that so? Well, if that’s what you want,” Chrollo drops the volume and pitch of his voice. “I’d love nothing more than to do just that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You knew you were playing with fire when you challenged him. The richness of his voice is unfair, the smooth sound making you subconsciously rub your thighs together. You’re grateful that the table obscures your telling body language, otherwise, it’d be a dead giveaway what effect he was having on you. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s been a fair amount of time since you’ve been intimate with anyone, a fact that’s most definitely not giving you any favors here. What you thought might just be lighthearted teasing is teetering into something else. All those compliments, longing looks, purposefully trying to spend more alone time with you— what is going on here? Do you like it? Scratch that, the question is more how much are you willing to compromise because you like it?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Undivided attention has no right feeling this good. It’s more addicting than any substance or adrenaline rush in your eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your eyelids flutter shut. “You can certainly try.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The two of you are snapped from your pleasant reverie when Chrollo’s phone suddenly rings. He gives you an apologetic smile and answers it, assuming the serious disposition you’re more familiar with. You hear what you think to be Shalnark’s voice on the other line, peppy as ever, filling Chrollo in on whatever new developments have taken place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Understood,” he replies, thinking for a moment. “Wait for my orders before you do anything. I’ll contact you again shortly.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo hangs up the phone and steeples his fingers. “Shalnark believes he found the main organizer behind the recent disturbances.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh?” You note the way his lips purse in a thin line, wondering why he’s not more pleased about the news.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She mentioned you by name,” he says. “And has repeatedly asked to speak with you.”</p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>writing reader and chrollo flirting has added years to my life ngl .</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. IV</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>You wouldn’t say that you had a bad upbringing. That’d be a disservice to those who suffered worse, besides, what good does complaining about it do?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If anything, you’re certain your life and position were envied by many. Born the second daughter to Victor and Dinora Avalor, one of the six most influential and wealthy families in Survosia, you never had to worry over where your next meal would come from. There was a roof over your head, your closet was filled to the brim with expensive clothes, and there was trained staff at your family’s estate that would see your needs meant. Every imaginable resource was at your disposal.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At the time, you had nothing to compare your childhood to. From as early as you can remember, you had a strict schedule and assumed that was standard. A maid would wake you at five in the morning. You’d be briefed on the expectations for the day, given a nutritional breakfast, and expected to complete everything with utmost excellence. Your mother had protested at the thought of sending you off to an all-girls academy, thinking it cruel to have you so far away from home at such an early age. As a compromise, you were tutored at home in the necessary subjects by the finest tutors money could buy. From dawn until twilight you were molded into the perfect daughter.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What was considerably different, you’d learn later on in life, was the other types of training mixed in with the normal instruction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Water Divination foretold that you were a Conjurer. You were expected to grow strong in your abilities for the sake of your family, your natural inclination for weapons, and subsequent Hatsu development sealing your fate. There would be no room for a weak, useless child. Estella, a Manipulator, was a key piece in your father’s game. However, he was looking for something else with you. A harbinger of death that would follow orders and cut down those who posed a threat to him or his allies. You suppose it made sense — your Nen was better suited for fighting than your elder sister — he was making use with what he was given.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So you strove to meet his high expectations.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You trained without ceasing, honed your body and mind, willing to do anything if it meant earning even an ounce of validation. Your cuts grew more precise, your movements more fluid, everything was about efficiency and getting the job done well.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>More was expected of you as time went on and you proved your usefulness. Handling a business competitor here, hunting down those who threatened to disrupt the peace of your father’s land there. You were simply fulfilling what needed to be done, further cementing that you were worthy of your revered surname and status. Nothing else mattered and you were perfectly fine with that.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Grow stronger. Prove yourself. Don’t be a disappointment. Those were the thoughts that would occupy your mind as the years went by.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Then one afternoon, you had met a certain eccentric girl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Beautiful day, isn’t it?” She had asked, wearing a bright yellow sundress and smelling of sweet flowers. You had been at one of your favorite spots in your rare downtime, a park a few towns over, reading and enjoying nature. You were sixteen then and she later revealed herself to be seventeen. She introduced herself as Karina Novikoff.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You learned what it was like to converse with someone who knew her way with words. She was witty and sharp as a knife, if not a little oddly cynical at times. For whatever reason, whether it was boredom or loneliness, you entertained her attempts to befriend you. It was difficult not to when she tracked you down with such determination, intent on starting long conversations and learning more about you. She never backed down from confrontation and challenged you in the areas your opinions differed. Slowly but surely, splashes of vibrant colors were added to your monochrome life by her hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina grew bolder as you lowered your emotional walls around her. She sat close enough so that your thighs were touching, borrowed your lipgloss, and asked for your help with stubborn zippers on her short dresses. You eventually learned how soft and pleasant the lips of a woman felt. She was an amorous lover who lavished you in attention and kept you on your toes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Unfortunately, some things are too good to be true.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You remember how hot and humid the night had been, just around two years ago. Cicadas sung from deep green trees joined by choruses of crickets. You worked your way up Karina’s apartment complex’s fire escape, the window to her living room always left unlocked and open on summer days. It smelled of chamomile tea and honey when you entered. She hummed to herself in the kitchen and wore nothing but one of your shirts and a pair of lacy panties. Your heart clenched at the sight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>As a small mercy, you released your Zetsu, and she noticed your presence the second it was dropped. Karina turned on her heel, a hand pressed against the swell of her chest, shocked at your imminent arrival.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Geez, this is the tenth floor. I hadn’t expected you,” she said, quick to regain herself. “Not that it’s an unwelcome sight by any means. I just brewed a pot of tea, would you like a cup?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You didn’t intend to play any more games. “Karina. What is this?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From your pocket, you lifted a struggling butterfly, and her pretty lips gaped at the sight. Different emotions flashed by her face like a skipping film reel on a projector. Bewilderment, caution, reluctant acceptance. How her hand started to sneak for a knife on her kitchen counter was not lost to you. You had never despised your hyper-awareness more in your life, from the way her breath hitched to the bloodlust she failed to contain for a millisecond.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“[First] dearest, I—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pinched the bridge of your nose, fed up and at your wit’s end. “How long has this been your intention?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... A few months before I met you.” She answered in truth.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You grew complacent,” your voice was detached and unlike any tone you had taken with her before. There was no warmth, no life, only callous deliberation. “Did you <em>really </em>think I would never notice?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina swallowed thickly but never stopped smiling. “If you were dead, you wouldn’t have.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You were supposed to kill me?” You already knew the answer, but wanted to hear it from her. It wouldn’t do any good — but you were in no frame of mind to care about that — you were a predator waiting to pounce. From the look on her face, she knew that as well as you did.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That was a part of my original plan, yes,” Karina licked her lip and grabbed the hilt of the kitchen knife. “At first, I couldn’t do it because you were too alert, love. Even in your sleep. Looks like you lived up to all the rumors.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Guess so,” you replied.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“However, that was just at first. I… I don’t know. Maybe you grew on me? Haven’t figured that one out myself,” she laughed a humorless laugh. “Listen. I could have sold information on your abilities, and I didn’t. The same goes for your schedule and which times you’d be at your most vulnerable. I won’t deny the other stuff, but just know that I never ratted you out specifically.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How considerate of you,” you deadpanned. “However, that didn’t stop you from gathering and selling information about my father. What do these butterflies do, anyway? Once I knew to look for them, I found them all around the estate.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s my ability. When activated, my aura takes that shape, and can fan out around the radius where it was activated; picking up sounds and relaying the information back to me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, so that’s it,” you crushed the aura-made butterfly in your hand. “Get dressed and pack your bags with the essentials. You have five minutes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You took a seat on her couch and crossed your legs. “And another thing. Put that knife down or I’ll dislocate your wrist, either works for me, though the latter would prove inconvenient.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She wordlessly did as you told her, it wasn’t like she could stand a chance in a fight. When her stuff was gathered, you led her to a car you had stolen and instructed her to get in. The drive was long and silent, taken on the back roads, with Karina stealing a glance at you now and then. It didn’t do any good, as your face was purposefully difficult to read.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Thirty minutes in, she quietly murmured a question. “Are you going to kill me?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not me you should be worried about,” was all you cared to say. Your father had caught wind of a mole within the estate’s ranks and was conducting various interviews and making security tighter. He had even gone as far as to hire outside help to make a statement. It was a mess unlike anything you’d seen before.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pulled up at a deserted airfield and parked near the wiry fence meant to keep intruders out. Karina watched without comment when you threw her bags on the other side of the fence. After you scaled the fence, you motioned for her to do the same, which she did after a second’s hesitation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait here.” You instructed and went inside a small building, the hangar doors open. Karina overheard you speaking to a man in a different language and was only able to catch a few words. When you came back, you had a sealed suitcase in your hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“In here is a new passport, social security card, and birth certificate, along with one million Jenny in prepaid credit cards. Even I don’t know where you’re going as it’s safer that way,” you handed the suitcase to a stunned Karina. “Now get going. The security footage I erased won’t matter once they finish recovering it, which will likely be at any second now.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re going to get in trouble for this,” Karina hugged the suitcase close to her chest and grit her teeth. You had already started back for the spot the stolen car was, conjured axe in hand to destroy it and further cover your tracks. It wouldn’t buy a lot of time, but you’d take what you could get.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I know.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And that was the last time you two had spoken.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <hr/>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You didn’t want to believe what your boss told you. You <em>wouldn’t </em>believe it until you could see and confirm it with your own eyes to be true.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s as if you were engulfed in a riptide, fighting tooth and nail for freedom, only for that same struggle to further pull you down. Entertaining the camaraderie of your fellow Troupe members has been put on the backburner. You offer withdrawn, courteous responses to any greetings extended your way, briskly walking to the main room where she was being held. In your disgruntled state, you still managed to notice that not everyone had assembled here yet. Which is understandable. Chrollo gave the order to reassemble four short hours ago, you were lucky to have been nearby.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Taking a deep breath, you open the heavy doors to the abandoned church, set on the outskirts of civilization. Had your mind not been in such a fog, you might wonder how Chrollo’s familiar with every abandoned building in existence. Morning light shines through the mosaic glass of the church’s windows, illuminating the wooden pews in iridescent sunlight. At the centerpiece of it all is a poised young lady, her smokey eyelids shut, and crimson lips set in a content smile.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina Novikoff, in the flesh. <em>Goddammit.</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Two years have done little to alter her comely appearance. Her skin is like porcelain, delicate and smooth in its complexion; you faintly recall how it felt underneath your fingers. Her dark azure eyes are as enchanting as you remember, filled to the brim with secrecy and entertainment, no matter how dire the scenario she’s in. The main change you’ve noticed is the length of her light, rose-colored hair, which now stops just below her chin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She can sense your distinct presence as you can sense hers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>“My butterfly,”</em> her voice drips from her silver tongue like honey and you shiver. <em>“So you have gotten yourself caught in the Spider’s web?”</em></p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Feitan stands watch a few feet away, as does Phinks. Their body language looks relaxed at first glance, but you know that couldn’t be further from the truth. If Karina were to make even the slightest suspicious movement, she’d be dead or worse in the blink of an eye, a reality she must have picked up on. You had fully expected to see her pretty face marred in bruises and blood when Chrollo said it was Feitan and Phinks who found and linked her back to the recent attacks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She’s gone and done it now. You’re truly at a loss, unable to decide on what it is you want to do here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What is she saying?” Phinks demands, tapping his foot against the floor repeatedly. Great, did she manage to put <em>him </em>in a bad mood too?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You settle on giving a half-truth. “A type of greeting.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now that both you and Chrollo have arrived, the other present members file into the main sanctuary. Machi, Nobunaga, Uvogin, and Shalnark had happened to all be within a few hours' vicinity; thus were able to get here the fastest. It'd take until nightfall for everyone else to gather. Shalnark is closely scrutinizing the various programs on Liborio’s laptop, which had assisted in placing Karina’s location. It’s not like her to be sloppy, but maybe Shalnark’s skills with technology were superior?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can I start with my questions, boss?” Shalnark asks, still not lifting his attention from the screen.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Go ahead,” Chrollo replies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shalnark turns to you and smiles. “Alright! First thing’s first. Can you get her to explain the malware on this computer? There’s something about it that’s been bugging me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You blink, thoroughly confused why everyone’s staring at you expectantly. “Why not just ask her yourself?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She can’t speak English,” Phinks explains, glancing down at the person in question. “We tried earlier and she didn’t understand much. Kept saying your name and shit. When we realized what language she was speaking, we figured it’d be best to wait until you got here to translate.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That would explain the miracle of why she hasn’t been tortured by Feitan yet. You hate to give Karina too much credit, but her idea was rather clever. It’s a shame you have to shatter her illusion so soon. Had you been in a better mood and the circumstances didn’t involve the Troupe, you may have played along to keep her safe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>That’s no longer my job,</em> you remind yourself. Despite the tribulations she put you through, your overprotective nature still threatened to override logic. Adamantly defending her would only draw more suspicion. It’s bad enough that she possibly implicated you by mentioning your name, something else you’ll surely have to clear up. With that in mind, you step closer to her, your lips etched into a deep frown.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Since when have you been unable to speak English, Karina?” You sigh, crossing your arms over your chest. This was a reunion you were <em>not </em>anticipating — especially under these conditions — but Karina has taught you to expect the unexpected. Or so you thought.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her pearly white smile widens. “It must have slipped my mind.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Looks like you were deceived, Phinks,” Nobunaga laughs, the aforementioned male gritting his teeth and muttering under his breath.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did you forget your common sense as well?” You question. Depending on how involved she is in this, it’s likely your old lover will not be walking out from this unscathed. Honestly, after all the trouble you went through, had she not learned any better? Irritation and worry run hand in hand, fighting to dominate your emotions. It’d be so much easier if you could completely cut off the attachment you hold for her. She betrayed your trust, used you to get closer to your father, and had landed you in boiling water once he learned about your connection.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>And yet… you still don’t want her to be in harm’s way.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina’s plenty cunning when willing to put the effort in. From how at peace you sense her to be, you’ll infer she has a plan up her sleeve and hope for the best.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Can’t forget something I never had,” she shrugs, the movement closely scrutinized by everyone present. “And, you. Shalnark, was it? What d’ya wanna know?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Maybe a little </em><strong><em>too </em></strong><em>at peace,</em> you appraise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>For the first time since you’ve been acquainted, Shalnark appears genuinely perplexed, not that you can blame him. “You’re going to talk willingly?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve always loved question and answer sessions! Go on, ask away. Nothing’s off-limits so long as I know the answer.” She responds in kind.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This one’s got a lotta spirit,” Uvogin bellows, joining in with Nobunaga who is still trying (and failing) to contain his amusement over Phinks’ blunder. You suppose this is preferable to the atmosphere being thick and heavy as it was when you first arrived. Karina’s natural charm has always been one of her strong suits, but you wonder if that alone will save her. Suffice to say, you were one of the members with a softer heart, by a long shot.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Machi clicks her tongue. “Or she’s just an idiot.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You keep your agreement with Machi’s assessment to yourself.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Enough,” Chrollo speaks up, silencing the other members with a raised hand. “Karina, was it? What reasons do you have for going through all this trouble?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, how rude of me! I believe a self-introduction is in order,” she hums, shifting excitedly in her seat. What may come off as fidgeting on a surface level serves a dual purpose. You realize that she, in true Karina fashion, is doing everything to test the Troupe’s boundaries. Why she feels the need to do that is still unknown.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Let’s see, where do I even start? My zodiac? No, that won’t do,” Karina releases an over-dramatic sigh. “Alright. I’m Karina, Karina Novikoff. Like that cute killjoy over there, I’m currently unable to get back home.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p><em>Her nicknames are distasteful as always,</em> you think. It doesn’t surprise you that she knows your predicament either, she always had a penchant for putting her nose where it didn’t belong.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And as for my motive behind all this… well. You guys are thieves, aren’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The faux warmth in her voice thaws into the calculative, detached tone that reflects her true self. “And I have <em>just </em>the thing for you to steal.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’re trying to work with us?” Phinks shakes his head in disbelief. “After purposefully stirring up pests and being a general pain in the ass?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina tilts her head. “As far as I can tell, no one’s died or even sustained injuries. I needed to ensure the Phantom Troupe lived up to their gruesome reputation. The job I have might be one of the biggest in history, after all. It’d have been a waste of my time if you were too weak to handle it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You talk a big game,” Feitan sneers, speaking up for the first time since you’ve arrived. “We have no reason to believe you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m well aware of that. If you think I’m being misleading in any way, feel free to mutilate me to your heart’s content. However, I think this opportunity is worth the listen.” Karina replies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Everyone in the room, namely Chrollo, thinks over her offer. Your curiosity is undeniably piqued as well. Her confidence is alluring and her ability to control the tide of conversation commendable. When she means business, no detail is overlooked. Though this might be the most bravely idiotic stunt she’s pulled yet.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Very well, I’m listening, but I won’t for long. Make it quick,” Chrollo relents after a few tense moments.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Your stomach drops when her scheming eyes dart to you. <em>Oh no you don’t,</em> you think.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“[First]. Be a dear and remind me, how many floors does the Avalor family estate have?” She hums. You don’t understand what she’s trying to get at — she knows just as well as you do that you rarely spent time at home — so there must be another purpose here. You dread to know what said purpose is.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not including the basement, it’d be five for the main building,” you respond, raising an eyebrow. “Why?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina tsks and shakes her head. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweetheart. You see, after lots of digging, I found some glaring inconsistencies. Take the basement, for example; it’s a multilevel complex big enough to rival an underground military base. The amount of electricity necessary to keep it running is enough to power a small town. Lord Victor isn’t environmentally friendly, is he?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Get to the point,” you sigh, your patience wearing thin. Hearing your father’s name makes your skin crawl.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“After gathering more information, I came to a conclusion. That must be where he stores his… <em>various </em>collections at the appropriate temperatures. Tracing back some purchases to the different sources, some of those goodies are, but not limited to: original manuscripts from infamous authors, instruments made of gold, Claude Monet paintings, and that’s just the beginning.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’ve never heard about any of this, but also don’t see the point of her lying. It’s not as if you were ever privy to your father’s affairs anyway, it’s certainly plausible, especially given the fact she dedicated most of her life to studying the best way to destroy him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How long until Pakunoda arrives?” Chrollo redirects his attention to Shalnark, who checks the time on the laptop.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Seven hours if the flight plan’s to be believed,” he replies. You can already tell it’s going to feel like a long time.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“We’ll wait until Paku is here to check this story,” Chrollo closes his eyes and thinks. “Nobunaga. Take her elsewhere. If she tries to escape, kill her.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When Karina walks past you, you realize her perfume hasn’t changed after all this time. It’s still the one you used to buy her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So... sweetheart, was it?” Uvogin is the first to break the silence. You make a mental note to unplug the fridge holding his beer later on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You clear your throat. “She’s always had a knack for theatrics. If she doesn’t wind up dead, expect a tacky nickname at some point.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Looking forward to it.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What are her abilities?” Machi cuts straight to the point. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Like Paku and Shalnark, she specializes in collecting information,” you respond. “Karina is a Transmuter, who normally hides her ability with In, so you’ll need to use Gyo to see it. She makes butterfly-looking creatures that feed audio back to her, regardless of distance.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“All the more reason to not let her walk out of here alive,” Feitan comments. You can’t blame him for being cautious. It’s not like they weren’t going to find out about her Hatsu, Pakunoda would’ve informed them when she checked her memories. You were only speeding up the inevitable. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t see how arguing in her favor will help. “If that’s what you feel is necessary.” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“What do you think, boss?” Phinks asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’re also curious about his thoughts, given it’s <em>your </em>old home that would be subject to ransacking should it go as Karina plans. In the end, she’d get what she always wanted, your father’s reputation and image dragged into the mud. Was such a feat possible? If so, you’ll gladly be the first one to draw blood; preferably his. Maybe you’d manage to forgive her if she pulls it off. </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If everything she said was true, well...” </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo smiles at you. “I’ve always wanted a Claude Monet painting.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. V</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="">
  <p>This must be the dustiest room in the entire building.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s to be expected, you suppose, seeing as the church you’re residing in has been abandoned for many years now. You didn’t catch the entire story, but something about an abrupt rise in violent crimes led to residents packing up and abandoning the town. It’s just now that you’re coming to realize the uncharacteristic rashness of your actions. The moment you were informed of Karina’s potential involvement, nothing else in this world mattered but confirming it with your own eyes. This downtime serves as a blessing under the guise of a curse. It’s valuable time to regroup, to gather your bearings, but is that not a problem itself?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>When all you can do is <em>wait</em>, that encourages the wheels of your mind to spin. Round and round it goes, ignoring your feeble attempts to break, continuing at full speed until you inevitably crash. This is why it’s so much better to have something to <em>do </em>rather than twiddling your thumbs. There was always the option of conversing with the other members, but you doubt that you’re pleasant company in this surly state.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Which is why you’ve found yourself here.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From what you can gather, this particular room must have once belonged to the kid’s wing of the church. There were alphabetical blocks strewn about on the carpeted floor, joined by toy cars, crayons, and other such items. What manages to catch your eye is a set of beautiful yet standard dolls abandoned alongside the rest of the toys. You hadn’t seen something like this in many years.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Bending over, you pick up the doll, inspecting it closely. It must have been well-loved. The design is simplistic if not cheap, yet your heart twists as if it were a fine piece of art. Little trinkets like this, that most would regard as standard for children to have, you never got to experience. Your mother had tried when she was alive to her credit, only for her attempts to be snuffed out. What purpose is there in a piece of plastic, when you could instead learn the proper way to hold a weapon? Why learn to braid a doll's hair when your fingers would be better spent learning the body’s various pulse points, to ensure you’d struck your opponent dead?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s what your father had reasoned. Any dolls your mother snuck into your room were destroyed promptly. There wasn’t room for excess, there wasn’t room for anything that couldn’t contribute to your abilities. You wonder if the expression your mom cast upon you was one of pity or guilt. To give yourself some peace of mind, you place the discarded doll back in its proper place.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Someone’s approaching.</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Similar to the first few notes of a waltz, Pakunoda’s aura is calm and dignified. You stand from your spot and wipe the dust from your skirt. Depending on how her check of Karina went, it’s very possible that she’ll search your memories for betrayal; not that you have anything to hide. The concept of another combing through your innermost thoughts and feelings is not appealing, even if it is someone you’re partial to.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How much did you see?” You find your voice before she does.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A deep hum reverberates from her chest. “Enough.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her body language does look to be apprehensive over your possible involvement, though she’s masterful at maintaining a composed face. You wish you were better at gauging people’s emotions. Unfortunately, that’s never been your area of expertise, the best you could do is reading your opponent’s actions in a fight.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Our unexpected visitor was telling the truth,” she informs. It <em>could </em>be a bluff, but if it were, she’d be out to play the long con. There’s no point in doing that when she could just gaze into your memories and be done with it. If Pakunoda was wary of your affiliation, you doubt she’d approach you alone, as your combat prowess would allow you to incapacitate her. With all this in mind, you’ll believe her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You pause to take in this information and nod your head. All of a sudden, everything feels so <em>real</em>, so tangible. The state of mind you had been in before was like a dead man walking. Little to no rational thought had been put into your words or actions beyond minimizing short-term repercussions. A fact that likely contributed to why the other Troupe members have left you to your own devices for the time being.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pakunoda remains at the door frame rather than leaving, her visage stoic and unreadable. You feel as if her eyes bypass your front altogether, seeing a deeper part of you and judging the contents. No matter how schooled you think your body language to be, her experience in dealing with people makes it for naught.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell me, [First]... what do you believe should be done?” Pakunoda raises this question, her tone firm.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Regrettably, you don’t have an immediate answer, your tongue feeling like it’s been twisted into knots. She takes the opportunity to press you further.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I won’t insult you by pretending to understand, but I’ll grant you my honest opinion. In this state, you’ll not only be a danger to yourself but the rest of the Spider as well; and that is something I won’t allow.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You long to refute her point, yet deep down inside, you know she’s right. Her words aren’t mean-spirited, but she’s instead offering you a lens to look at the situation from a perspective other than your own. If this heist is to be pulled off successfully, you will need to be mentally sound and at your best performance. Anything less would be an insult to yourself and the Troupe. It’s difficult to put into words the gratitude you feel for her honesty, being coddled and smothered in optimistic promises is the last thing you need.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It doesn’t do your emotions justice, but you manage a genuine response. “Thank you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A ghost of a smile appears on her roseate lips. This is the Pakunoda you see in your time away from the Troupe, a supportive and level-headed figure who looks out for those she cares for. Her introspective line of questioning hadn’t been what you anticipated, though you greatly prefer it over having your personal memories combed through.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pakunoda walks by you in comfortable silence, the only sound in the hallways being her heels clicking against the ground. There’s no reason for you to silence your footsteps but it’s something of a habit. You both enter the same sanctuary from before, now bathed in moonlight rather than warm hues. As you suspected, the other members have all arrived, except for a certain finicky magician; not that any of you are surprised by that. Nobunaga is the other member not present, likely guarding Karina in a room elsewhere.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well?” Phinks prompts, more so to Pakunoda than to you. It dawns upon you then that Pakunoda sought you out first rather than filling in the other members immediately. The realization stokes affection in your heart that you commit to memory. That was… genuinely thoughtful of her, even if she was also trying to snap you from your reverie.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She wasn’t lying. Her various plans are rather <em>involved</em>, so I’ll shoot the information into you,” Pakunoda conjures her Nen bullets and pistol. In an instant, she fires multiple rounds, the impact forceful enough to almost push you back. Flurries of memories, thoughts, and emotions from Karina’s eyes flood through your senses like a stuttering film.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Blackmailing Liborio and men similar to him into placing absurd bounties on the Troupe. Gathering intel on the Avalor Estate. Sifting through hundreds of hours’ worth of audio gathered from her ability, named Hide and Seek (Everything Comes to Light).</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina had considered innumerable methods for the most optimal methods to gain entry to the estate. The various ideas would be contingent on too many outside factors to remain concrete, like how many Manipulators may be in the Troupe and how many people could be under their thrall at once. She had given this a lot of thought and consideration. You’d never taken the opportunity to ask <em>why </em>she’s so hellbent on tearing your father down, that’s another question you’ll need to get around to asking. He’s indeed made no shortage of enemies throughout the years. From what you can tell, her life in the past two years has been solely dedicated to this and nothing else, almost like it was the sole thing keeping her going.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shalnark is the first to voice his opinion. “Hm… there are still quite a few gaps in her plans from what I can tell.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“She didn’t know any of our abilities before,” Franklin reasons. “Other than [First]’s, that is.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina was only vaguely aware of your Hatsu, since you rarely felt a need to use it in her presence. The most she had seen in action is Set A, your sword, when you cut down a group of assassins on what was meant to be a nice picnic date in the park. While she did see you hold Set C at the airport runway, she never saw what it could actually do.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s something to go off of,” Phinks shrugs.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo turns his head to where you and Pakunoda stand. “[First]. How plausible are her ideas?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s difficult to say,” you reply in truth. “She’s right about one thing. These next few weeks would be the best opening, if not the only opening. While it may have changed, the standard procedure was for about one-third of the estate’s staff to aid in guarding The Mother’s Blessing.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How much security is there?” Machi asks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If I were to guess, the estate employs around three hundred people. Not all of those have a specialty in combat, though they’re expected to be capable of adequately defending themselves.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s a challenge, then,” Uvogin grins, his excitement pulsating in the air. “Boss, give us the order, and we’ll take care of it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo puts his hand up. “Not yet. Shal, tell Nobunaga to bring that girl back.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>All it takes is a few minutes for Karina to return, a peaceful smile on her face as if she weren’t in the presence of Class A bounties. While she might not have known the full extent of Pakunoda’s abilities, it’s safe to assume she knows it cleared her story. The tension from before has been alleviated and replaced with a faint buzz. She was right when she said that it was an opportunity worth listening to. If successfully pulled off, this would undoubtedly be a historic heist for the Troupe, one that would further cement its reputation.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Did she present any problems?” Chrollo asks, to which Nobunaga shakes his head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Sure can talk your ear off, but that’s about it,” he sighs. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand, hiding the urge to laugh at his admission. Nobunaga <em>does </em>look more tired than when he first took her away earlier. Now that more eyes are watching, he helps himself to taking a seat on one of the many rows of wooden pews.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Karina. You will contact the men who placed bounties on us and call everything off. In exchange for allowing you to live, expect to be under constant surveillance. Any suspicious behavior will result in you being killed.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s fine with me,” she hums.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo nods to you. “Remove her restraints.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You waste no time fulfilling his order and conjure Set A. The silver blade is brought up and down in the blink of an eye, cutting the rope used to tie her hands behind her back. She rubs the bruising skin with an almost unnoticeable wince. Whoever tied it (Feitan, if you had to guess), made it far tighter than it needed to be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina bows her head deeply to everyone in the room. “I hope that we’ll all get along from now on.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Don’t get cocky,” Feitan interjects, clicking his tongue.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wouldn’t dream of it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>At Karina’s prompting, Shalnark provides her with an additional laptop to fulfill Chrollo’s first condition. While this takes place, the other members scurry around as they please, searching for various activities to occupy themselves with. You believe you overheard that Franklin was going a town over to get some drinks. Other than that, everyone stays in the sanctuary for the most part, including you. You’ve stored some books into the subspace that lets you conjure your Sets for occasions such as this. Reaching into the black, circular opening, you pull out a copy of <em>The Castle of Otranto</em>.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, [First]!” Karina calls over, waving her arms with enthusiasm. You look up from your book and visibly frown. Maybe if you ignore her she’ll catch the hint? That doesn’t seem to be in her itinerary, however, as she persists. Some of the other members shoot you a quizzical glance, much to your chagrin. Only Pakunoda is semi-aware of your history with Karina and you’d prefer to keep it that way. What’s that English idiom again? No rest for the weary? Or was it the wicked? One of those sounds about right.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Wanting to avoid any future embarrassment, you begrudgingly shut your book and walk over to her before she does something stupid. She’s situated herself at a table in the far corner, her smile widening when you stop pretending she doesn’t exist. The chair next to her screeches against the ground as she pulls it out, patting it for good measure.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Have a seat.” She instructs, to which you listen, crossing your legs over the other and placing your hands on your lap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Focus on your job,” you reprimand, eyeing the laptop that currently serves as her lifeline. You can sense the oncoming headache from a mile away. That dangerous gleam in her eyes instills more dread in you than anything else, you <em>know </em>that look well, loathe as you are to admit it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina juts out her plump bottom lip. “I am! Surprise surprise, the internet out in this deserted wasteland is rather spotty. Not much left to do other than wait.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then wait in silence.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Where’s the fun in that?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not everything in life is fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then why live at all?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You suppress the urge to roll your eyes. “Was there something that you needed?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Actually, yes, there is,” she eagerly nods her head and leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “So, I overheard that arm wrestling is popular ‘round these parts. Care to take me on?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Seriously? Was she always so… like <em>this</em>? How did you manage to get so enraptured in the first place? Sure, you were pretty lonely, but to think your standards allowed this minx to snake into your heart is incomprehensible. Though, you guess her eccentric personality was one of her many charms. You never felt bored when Karina was around and the same could be said for now. Any outsider looking at you two wouldn’t have the slightest inkling that you both parted on bad terms, or at least you hope that’s the impression they’d get.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If I agree, may I return to reading in peace?” You already know you’ve lost the battle by the mischievous grin on her face.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Maybe, maybe not. We’ll see how I’m feeling after I beat you,” she extends her arm, and you sigh.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shalnark, who was silently observing the exchange, makes his presence known. “I’ll handle being the referee for this match.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From the lilt in his voice, there’s no denying how much pleasure he’s deriving from watching this grating interaction. Karina’s voice must have carried, as some other members make their way over to see what will happen next. Phinks, Machi, and Nobunaga seem interested in what the outcome of your match will be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Machi swivels a chair out and sits facing the table, and you hear her mutter under her breath, “Nobunaga wasn’t kidding.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Win and I’ll cover your next watch shift,” Nobunaga promises with a grin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>How much did she talk his ears off, anyway? You almost feel bad for him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shizuku walks over next, placing a hand on her chin and humming. “What was [First]’s arm wrestling rank again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Eighth, I think,” Phinks recalls. “She beat Nobunaga even though he’s an Enhancer.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nobunaga shoots Phinks a dirty look, who simply snickers at his reaction.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From the corner of your eye, you realize your boss has been observing the exchange as well, his eyes not having scanned the pages of his book in some time. You eventually mirror Karina’s prior action and firmly grasp her outstretched hand. It’s then that you come to the realization her hand is trembling ever so slightly, the adrenaline from before must have worn off recently. It’s too bad that wasn’t enough to drain all her seemingly never-ending energy.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Remember, no using Nen, only your physical strength,” Shalnark explains, to which you both nod. “Ready… go!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina applies immense pressure right off the bat, her face contorting and wrinkling up as she focuses on trying to bring your arm down. You blink, fully unimpressed, having to barely utilize a fraction of your strength to contest all of hers. She continues to strain herself and you let her do as she pleases. Your arm doesn’t budge an inch from where it started despite her most valiant efforts, something you know will wound her pride. Her grip on your hand tightens and you notice it’s starting to perspire. A part of you almost feels bad for this display, but this was from her own prompting, so any possible guilt is alleviated.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In a last-ditch effort, she swings over her other arm, now using them both to try and push yours down. The watching members chuckle good-naturedly at the admittedly entertaining display, and it hits you then why Karina asked you to do this. You’re familiar enough with her tactics to know she’s trying to get them to warm up to her by acting endearing. Fair enough, you suppose, she can do as she pleases. It’s in everyone’s collective best interest if they stop treating her coldly.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head in disbelief and finally end her suffering. Applying but a touch more force, both her arms easily slam down, and she laughs sheepishly. Two years and she hasn’t changed a bit.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Okay, maybe arm wrestling isn’t my thing,” she concedes, massaging her sore hand from the impact. Karina should feel grateful you went considerably easy on her. If you had been in a worse mood, it would’ve been as simple as breathing to smash her hand through the table. “[First], really, you could’ve gone easier on me! What if you broke my hand?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her complaining makes you shrug. “Learn to use the other.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>From how lighthearted the atmosphere is now, this morning almost feels like a bad dream rather than something that happened. That’s Karina for you. Always managing to get the people around her to loosen up, even if they are hardened criminals. There’s no denying that she’s good at what she does.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You two sound like a bickering married couple,” Nobunaga snickers, much to your internal horror.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina jumps at the opportunity. “If only! Unfortunately, I couldn’t <em>dream </em>of affording [First]’s dowry— ah, okay, I’m shutting up now, don’t look at me like that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She puts her hands up in defense at the murderous glare you send her way. Every divine being above and malevolent creature below must have imparted their protection upon this woman, as the Troupe members take her ‘slip up’ as a joke and nothing more. Before you can humble her with a rematch, Franklin comes through the sanctuary doors, various cans of alcoholic beverages falling onto the ground.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You offer to take the first round of watch duty regardless of Nobunaga’s earlier promise.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There are a few places you could situate yourself outside, though you ultimately decide on a wooden swing in front of the building. While it’s creaky and not the most comfortable place to sit, the slight movement is pleasant, pairing well with the night’s cool breeze against your skin. It’s been an excruciatingly long day. The difference in scenery is a welcome one — ruins of a long forgotten town and abandoned cars littering the streets — the only life for miles being yourself and the Troupe.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Footsteps against the gravelly ground approach you from behind. You weren’t expecting the company, but if you’re correctly assuming who it is, don’t mind in the slightest. Chrollo takes a seat on the wooden swing, the structure swinging back. In the space between you two, he sets down a beer can and sandwich, which you eye warily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You haven’t eaten in a day,” he reminds, a fact you’d genuinely forgotten about. It’s a touching gesture. While you assume he’s here to further flesh out the oncoming heist, he didn’t need to bring you this. You take the sandwich from the plastic bag and start to eat, though not without giving a polite thank you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo quirks an eyebrow up. “Are you not a fan of alcohol, [First]? I’ve never seen you drink any.”  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I prefer having total control of my body,” you explain, eyeing the can warily. There’s more to your preference but you decide to leave it at that. Fortunately for you, Chrollo has enough tact to sense he shouldn’t tread further. If he ever needs to borrow your Nen, you’ll need to elaborate further. You wonder if he’d be dissuaded from borrowing it by you explaining the full consequences of your abilities.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now that you’ve finished eating, Chrollo gets to the matter at hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This job will require lots of preparation. I’m going to lean heavily on your knowledge, so let me know if I’m troubling you too much,” he quips, to which your lips quirk into a smile. You’ve learned that his presence is a pleasant one. In downtime like this, he’s soft spoken and well mannered, qualities you find yourself more drawn to everyday.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m surprised you’ve yet to tire of my presence.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo shoots you an incredulous look. “I don’t believe I ever could.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>If his main goal was to put you more at ease, he’s accomplishing it with flying colors.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Boss, forgive me for being presumptuous, but… why did you not instruct Pakunoda to check me?” Your breath hitches, the both of you surprised by your uncharacteristic boldness. Minute details revolving around your work used to never be given a second thought. The ends defined the means, everything else in between was inconsequential as long as the job got done. For some reason, you find yourself dwelling on things you used to never bat an eyelash at, not wanting your fellow Troupe members to have the wrong impression.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He regains himself and answers, “What would you benefit from betraying us?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... Fair point,” you agree after a moment’s reflection. Chrollo must be secure enough in his ability to understand people — he more or less <em>has </em>to be to maintain order of such a volatile group — you wonder what it’s like to be in such a strenuous position.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The Spider would cease to exist if I suspected every member over a coincidence,” he further elaborates. “All of us are, in some way or another, connected to the underbelly of society. It’s natural that these things will happen.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head. “You’re confident in your members.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Naturally,” he smiles with true sincerity. “That includes you as well, [First]. I trust you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What is this? This slight tinge of anxiety churning in your stomach, how your heart thumps at an unnecessarily rapid rate? The slight chill of twilight is long forgotten by how your body flushes with heat. Those deep, almost omniscient gray eyes of his prove too much of a challenge to stare into any longer, you suddenly find your lap a more interesting place to look. It’s a senseless plea to hope someone as perceptive as Chrollo wouldn’t notice the magnitude of your reaction, yet you pray he thinks little of it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>I trust you. Those three words resonate loud and clear like a church’s bell, occupying the space of your mind without ceasing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, I just remembered,” Chrollo speaks up, catching your attention. “I noticed the book you were reading earlier. The Castle of Otranto, was it? It’s been many years since I’ve read it myself, would you mind lending it to me for the time being?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head, but not without adding, “I never thought I’d lend my belongings to a renowned thief.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo laughs, the sound sending your heart aflutter once more.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“This is an item I swear to return. You have my word.”</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. VI</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>The day consisted of tying up various loose ends upon Chrollo’s behest.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>More extensive research was conducted into Karina’s background, members were dispatched to clean up the remaining bounty hunters, and Chrollo had begun to lay the groundwork for the future heist. His plan consisted of the necessary foundation to build the more intricate details off of. The visas that will need to be obtained, bribing airport security, matters that would be delegated to the legs of the Spider to carry out.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“The most pressing issue is what to do when we get there,” Chrollo explains. The great unknown factor of your home country presents the largest obstacle. “I believe you claimed to have a plan. [First], I trust you’ll point out any challenges her idea presents?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Of course.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You know your role well. You’re here to operate as a real-time fact-checker for any cultural differences the other Spiders wouldn’t catch — and thus be ignorant to. It would be your responsibility if Karina managed to use this to her advantage. As such, you feel the tangible weight of the other member’s stares, the silent responsibility a burden only you could take on.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Crossing your legs, you patiently wait for Karina to give her pitch. If it’s absolute perfection they want, then that’s what they’ll get; high expectations are nothing new for you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“There are a couple of things you’ll need to keep in mind to pull this off.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina raises a finger, finally breaking the silence. “One. Getting into the country is the easy part, as Mr. Boss surmised. What won’t be so simple, however, is getting into the Avalor estate itself. That will be the biggest hurdle to overcome and the central focus of my idea.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So far, you can’t see any contradictions in her words and raise no objections.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That doesn’t mean the other members will extend her the same grace.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Didn’t you say security will be at its most lax in the next few weeks? Whatever happened to that?” Nobunaga points out, scratching his chin.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“While that’s true, it would be unwise to discount the worker bees still buzzing about. They have the advantage of knowing the terrain like the back of their hand, all the simulations they’ve run in case of intruders, and impeccable teamwork,” Karina replies.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her azure eyes shift to you. “That’s not to say it’s impossible. Sweet [First] here can waltz back in whenever she so chooses, it is her home after all.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Looks like you’re going solo on this one,” Phinks deadpans. You don’t trust the smile on Karina’s face, it feels more like an omen than anything else. When she gets into these long, unnecessarily in-depth spiels that could’ve been summarized in just a few words, it’s for a reason. A build-up to the final, climactic point. This tells you, whatever she has in mind is going to need some convincing.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How exciting,” you respond with nonexistent enthusiasm. Then, you challenge, “That’s what you’ve been working up to these past twenty-four hours?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina tuts at your sarcasm. “O ye of little faith. I was just getting to the best part. Notice how I haven’t said getting out is a concern?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You talk too much,” Feitan clicks his tongue. “Get to the point.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hey, you weren’t stuck with her for eight hours like I was. I don’t want to hear any complaining,” Nobunaga shudders at the memory, his complexion blanching. Just what did she say to him during that time to leave such a lasting impression…?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Uvogin pats him on the back hard enough for Nobunaga to wince. “You were the one complainin’ about how boring prisoner watch duty was last time we were all together.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s because they couldn’t talk! I don’t want to hear it, you wouldn’t have lasted thirty minutes.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge. Let’s see about that,” Uvogin’s grin widens at the prospect.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Please, continue where you left off.” Chrollo nods, preventing any verbal disagreements before they could distract from the main issue. He’s had his fair share of practice over the years, it would seem.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina clears her throat and refocuses the attention back onto the matter at hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That’s because you’re not going to just steal from Lord Victor. You’re going to kill him.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The Troupe has no immediate response or quips and neither do you. They switch from gauging your reaction to seeing if Karina was joking, which she gives no indication of being the case. She keeps her stare heavy and on no one else but you. You hear your heart hammering away as if it were in your ears, loud and uneasy. It isn’t like what she’s suggesting has never crossed your mind in the past. An intrusive thought, you labeled it, for how inconceivable the reality would be.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>“Is your family not what matters most?”</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’d frequently ask you this very question. On the rare occasions you voiced your displeasure with his plans or called into question what he was asking you or your siblings to do, this was always how he responded. Your father did not even bother entertaining you with refuting your meticulously constructed points. Whether it was because he didn’t care or thought you were so incapable of understanding the greater picture that only he seemed to see, you don’t know. What you do know is that your vocal opposition grew less frequent as the years went by.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shizuku raises her arm in the air.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Yes, you in the turtleneck and glasses.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Um, I just wanted to make sure I’m remembering correctly here. Isn’t that [First]’s father?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“That he is!”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Oh. Huh, okay then.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This would’ve been the end result at some point or another. That’s what you want to believe, at least. Those nights where he’d dismiss you from his office after you filled him in on a successful job, you’d sometimes stay planted and consider what the consequences would be. Could you successfully pull it off? Would he strike you down before you got close enough? Every time, with adrenaline pumping through your veins and your mind roaring, you’d reluctantly turn on your heel and leave. The stain on your pride was bleeding and immense.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He had made a point of turning his back to you in those moments. Everything the man did was intentional — that you know for certain. He was inviting you. Taunting you. A wordless expression of “Just try it” to see if you would take the bait he laid out. By his own admission, if his family was capable enough to strike him down where he stood, then that meant he could no longer claim to be the rightful leader. Only those who are strong can make that assertion.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>So the question remains.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>
    <em>Are you finally strong enough?</em>
  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now slow down just a second. That’s a Troupe member's own flesh and blood.” Nobunaga is the first to voice his opposition. This is uncharted territory, after all, a situation like this had never arisen. The people you dealt with had no personal connections to anyone in the Spider, a fact that made jobs cleaner and simpler to execute. Potential conflicts of interest were to be avoided, an unspoken rule.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Not to mention how much-unwanted attention that would attract,” Franklin adds.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The match has been lit. Until you voice your support of the outlandish idea, you can’t imagine anyone else offering theirs as a form of strained courtesy. Everything will hinge on how you respond.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Machi crosses her arms over her chest. “We listened. Doesn’t mean we have to go through with it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, but then what do we do with her?” Shizuku inquires.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Need you even ask?” Feitan’s question is met with an understanding hum from Shizuku.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo, who has been closely scrutinizing your every movement, is a second away from de-escalating the situation but you beat him to it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’d like to hear her out,” you goad Karina on. She blinks, as if your decisive reaction was unexpected, before quickly catching herself. “Explain the potential merits.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“R-right. Once Lord Victor is taken care of and the basement looted, the problem of escape is the final hurdle to overcome. Hold over the house and its servants fall to whoever is next in line once the discovery of his death is made, including subsequent decisions.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Phinks nods. “Alright, alright, I think I’m starting to get it. Are you an only child, [First]?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You shake your head.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Well, fuck. So much for that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Lady Estella is far more agreeable than the soon-to-be late Victor. I’m sure you’ll be able to broker some sort of compromise with her. And, if worst comes to worst, [First] always bested her elder sister during sparring.” The message in between the lines doesn’t sit well with you. If Karina is trying to imply you should take her down for this job as well, that’s where you’ll draw the line. Estella might be overbearing at times but not to the degree you’d feel justified killing her.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Unnecessary,” you wave her idea off. “It won’t come to that.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“If you say so. It’s just best to consider these things in advance. Which leads me to my final point… what number was I at again? Ah, who cares. This is where things get fun.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You wonder for a moment who would’ve broken first and permanently silenced Karina had it not been for her vital role in this upcoming heist. From how Feitan’s eyebrows are furrowing more and more by the second, you place your bets on him. It’s a miracle he’s managed to keep his bloodlust in check. The only member Karina’s appeared to have won over so far is Uvogin, who looks to be having the time of his life right now.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina claps her hands together.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Alright! Who wants to marry [First]?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Phinks chokes on his beer and starts coughing violently, Chrollo’s eyes widen in a way you’ve never seen before, Shizuku tilts her head, Shalnark stops typing away on his phone and freezes, Franklin drops the drinks he just entered the room with.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Going once, going twice—”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Wait, <em>what</em>?” You force out in disbelief. It’s like all the air has been forced from your lungs in a forceful punch.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Hm? Didn’t you hear me? I asked who wants to marry you,” Karina clarifies, as if the proposition was the most casual thing ever. Did she fall on her head and get a concussion? You’ve never been able to fully grasp the things that go on in her cursed mind, yet this is on an entirely different level.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“My revised plan is very simple. What better excuse for [First] to have a plus one than for it to be her fiance? Matters of marriage are of great importance to families like the Avalors, they obsess over it. You’ll be granted a free ticket into the estate, a one-on-one audience with Lord Victor, and a viable excuse to scuttle about the halls.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You take a deep, uneasy breath. “I... don’t see how this is necessary.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Karina runs a hand through her hair, shoulders slumping. “There will be no getting all, or even most of the Troupe members anywhere near that prison-like estate. It’s impossible. Alarm bells will be ringing before you can blink. Sending [First] in there by herself is too risky. The strongest or most capable member should accompany her, everyone else can be a safe distance away on standby.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A week ago, when you were breaking into your new apartment and watering your plants, you never would have imagined this for yourself. You don’t know whether to feel mortified or irritated. What makes matters worse is that she has a point, something you do not intend to admit. The other Troupe members don’t understand how you two do just how vital marriage is for influential families back home. Karina might inject theatrics into her persona to lighten up those around her, yet this is different. She means every word she says.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Strongest member, huh? Everyone’s idea of that is different,” Uvogin says, stretching his arms over his head. “Alright, I knew the day would come where we had an arm wrestling rematch.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“<em>That’s</em> you’re taking away fromthis?” Phinks gapes, incredulous.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Blinky can always dispose of the body,” Shizuku points out. “That would buy time after the meeting for [First] and whoever to steal the merchandise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Pakunoda offers her input. “The layouts in Karina and [First]’s memories combined would make it easier to navigate as well, they won’t be going in blind. It’s a good place to start.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Franklin shakes his head. “There’s too much dependence on external factors.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I agree,” Nobunaga nods his head. “We just don’t know enough to take such a big risk.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“A risk is necessary here. The window to pull this off is limited,” Machi decides to place her trust in Pakunoda, who has searched both yours and Karina’s memories. If Pakunoda was on board with the idea, with all the knowledge she held, then Machi would be too.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Phinks turns his attention to Chrollo, who is sitting with his head resting on his hands, an indication that he’s in deep thought. “Boss, what do you think? Is any of this plausible to you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s not a matter of choosing the strongest member,” Chrollo’s eyes land on you, unreadable and vast. “[First]. I’m assuming that there would be strict expectations on behavior and conduct for anyone accompanying you to follow.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’d be assuming correctly.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And, if these expectations aren’t met, suspicion would grow.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It would,” you pause to think, mulling over how to best make this idea viable. “I could give a basic explanation on how to dress, behave, and speak, but the rest would be contingent upon whoever comes with me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>In other words, you both would be carrying the burden of the job almost entirely by yourselves. There would be limited assistance from the other Spider’s once you got inside your estate.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“... I see.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>A long moment passes before he speaks up again, breaking the room’s silence. “I will go with you.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s no amount of self-control powerful enough in the world to prevent your eyes from widening. You regain yourself, fully cognizant that Chrollo is gauging your every reaction, returning to a neutral visage seconds later. Somewhere within the confines of your subconscious, you felt like he would be the ideal pick. His charisma and ability to read others would be essential to carrying this out. The experience he’s had infiltrating high society families will be useful here too, it wouldn’t be the first time he pretended to be a person he isn’t.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>This wouldn’t just be a test of your capabilities. It would be a test for Chrollo as well. One where both your lives would be placed on the line, for better or for worse.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Congratulations on the engagement, you two. You’ll be in for one hell of a ride,” Karina winks.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And that settles that,” Shalnark looks up from his laptop. “I found a trustworthy source to forge our passports and visas.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“How soon can you get them?” Chrollo inquires.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Shalnark’s eyes scan over his screen. “Hm, two days look to be about the average according to the hunter website’s description. Kortopi’s ability should help speed the process up.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Make it one instead. The sooner we get in the country the better,” he stands from his spot near the altar. “Feitan, Phinks, Franklin. You’ll be in charge of securing our passage. Uvogin, Nobunaga. Continue with the extermination of the remaining bounty hunters. Paku, Machi, Shizuku. Stay here and watch over Karina; kill her if she proves more trouble than she’s worth. Bonolenov, Kortopi, head out with Shal to assist with obtaining the necessary identification papers.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Finally, he turns his attention to you, your facial expression not betraying your disjointed thoughts.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“And [First]... let us discuss this arrangement further. In private.” </p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. VII</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p></p><div class="">
  <p>When Chrollo told you that he wished to speak in private, you could never have anticipated this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You expected him to bombard you with more questions, voice his concerns, or perhaps even test to see where your allegiances lie. This would be the most daring heist the Troupe had ever done and time was the clock was ticking. Logic dictated that every spare second should be utilized to the fullest, scrutinizing plans for potential holes and preparing for the job. The leader of the notorious Phantom Troupe would surely have valuable insight on how to pull everything off.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s why this current predicament doesn’t make sense. Other members were hunting down straggling threats, gathering information, and guarding a valuable asset. So why are you two at a bustling shopping mall as if it were the most natural thing?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Has anything caught your eye, [First]?” Chrollo inquires from his spot a few feet from you.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Could this be a test? There must be a greater meaning to this supposedly innocent outing. He drove you over an hour to get back into civilization, far removed from that abandoned town and dilapidated church, and into the nearest city. The car ride itself was mostly him asking questions about <em>you </em>rather than about the job. Your favorite foods, input on current events, information that held no real importance in your opinion. The change in atmosphere from serious to casual gave you whiplash.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s no one following you from what you can sense, so the question couldn’t have that double meaning behind it. Is he truly asking for your opinion and nothing else?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I can’t say I particularly care for shopping,” you admit, scanning your eyes over the surrounding area for the umpteenth time. Nothing is out of the ordinary. Young couples are walking hand in hand, children are tugging their parents to the toy stores, and employees from the food court are trying to bring in customers by offering free samples. You suppose it would be an excellent place to blend in while tailing someone, but you’re confident enough in your abilities to pick up on any lurkers.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Neither do I,” Chrollo places the book he was examining back onto the kiosk’s shelf. He had given the limited selection the same treatment, skimming over its contents, only to return it.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Then why…?” The words die on your tongue, in fear of appearing unprofessional. Chrollo told you that it was fine to voice your concerns — welcome, even — but years of being told otherwise cannot be undone so easily.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’ll tell you in a moment. First, I was wondering why that store over there had you so entranced.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He nods to the spot in question. It’s a chain frozen yogurt establishment that you’ve seen around Yorknew before, yet the concept was most bizarre. So he noticed how your eyes lingered on the bright neon sign?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Ah, that. I’ve always wondered what motivated a person to freeze yogurt. It does not add to the nutritional value, does it?” You put a gloved hand to your chin, considering the proposition. There were no venues such as this back at home. Yogurt was meant to be a protein, antibiotic-filled snack, not a dessert. The people or Yorbia were nothing if not fascinating with their ideas.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo can’t help but smile and you stare, tilting your head. “Did I say something funny?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, it’s—” He takes in a deep breath and shakes his head, the smile ever-present. It feels different than the ones you’ve seen on him before. “Alright, perhaps a little. I never could have expected <em>that </em>to be the reason behind your staring. You looked to be in such deep thought.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That’s because you <em>were </em>in deep thought, but you digress.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I think it would be easier for you to experience it yourself rather than for me to explain it,” Chrollo walks away from the kiosk and you follow after him. Did he mean to make you try it? In that case, so be it; growing more acquainted with Yorbia’s cuisine could serve you well. Wait, what are you thinking about? There’s work to be done. Preparation to consider, and here you are, standing in front of a humming machine that faintly reminds you of a science fiction novel.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You pull the lever down after deciding which flavor you want,” Chrollo demonstrates this by doing just that, a stream of artificially green-colored substance falling into his bowl. This looks like a biohazard. What appeal is there to a brightly colored treat such as this? In the wild, these shades were adapted by prey to ward off predators to show that they were venomous.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Most peculiar indeed.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now you were faced with innumerable options. Chocolate, vanilla, cheesecake, was that cotton candy…? No, this must be a crime against the common good. However, you refuse to back down from this challenge, you’ll conquer this task and come out on top. Grabbing a bowl as Chrollo did, you go to each station, adding an ounce or so of each flavor to your cup before reaching the end.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He’s now at what is dubbed the topping station, sprinkling chocolate shavings on top of his dessert. You decide to try one of each topping as well. That way, you could better understand the appeal to this place. It’s a spot that draws attention like a moth to a flame. The line is long despite it being a weekday, which must signify its cultural importance.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo stares at your abomination of a cup for a long, drawn-out second, his visage unreadable. “Interesting choice.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“In retrospect… I may have gone a little overboard.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“No, I doubt it.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice. Was this truly the same man who was giving out orders to a group of ragtag murderers hours before? Chrollo’s ability to compartmentalize his personality has never failed to impress you.  </p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Next up is the matter of paying. Your malevolent creation came to 3,500 Jenny, a price tag you didn’t so much as blink at before taking your wallet out to pay. The customers behind you, a teenage girl and her younger sister, had been chatting while you were rung up. You were always taught the importance of eavesdropping on your surroundings in case there was valuable information. In this instance, it was little more than an innocent discussion. Something about a piano recital the oldest has to practice for this weekend.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Would Estella have taken you out to places like this if you were born into a different life? Saved up her paychecks from working odd jobs, just to treat you? Would you have even accepted her benevolence? Her obsession with spoiling you and Ash to the point of infantilization was always off-putting. She didn’t need to try and force the maternal role upon herself. You were just fine without it, yet she never believed you, a choice that wedged you further apart. Whether that was her intention or not, you had no way of knowing; people like her and Chrollo act with a bigger picture in mind that you’ve never been able to see.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It’s easier to focus on what’s directly ahead rather than what may be around the corner a few turns up.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>The cashier goes to hand your change back and you put a hand up to stop him.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I’m gonna bring a big ol’ sign with your name on it for the concert!” The youngest exclaims.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Her elder sister gives a sheepish laugh and ruffles her hair. “Please don’t. I think I’d just about die of embarrassment.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod your head in their direction and assume the cashier will pick up on the implication, leaving the remaining cash in his hand.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>After that, you joined Chrollo at a free table in the noisy food court. He’s already begun to help himself to his frozen yogurt, though there was never a moment you didn’t feel his eyes on you, not that you aren’t used to it by now. The intimidating mountain of sugary goodness that you created was akin to Frankenstein’s monster, a conglomerate that was never meant to be. An insult to both god and man alike. Gummy bears hang for dear life to the caramel syrup atop the multicolored peak, but gravity is ultimately victorious, and the fallen soldiers plop sadly into the rest of the mushy abyss.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Needless to say, your appetite isn’t being aroused.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I don’t believe this is edible,” you hang your head in disappointment. You were too caught up in the moment to consider the long-term repercussions. Was this how it felt to be a mad scientist, blinded by ambition, to the point of overlooking common morality?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Here. Open your mouth for me.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo holds a spoonful of his frozen yogurt in front of your lips, a mischievous glint in his eyes.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You part your lips to protest, heat flooding your face, but it’s already too late. He takes the opportunity to place the plastic spoon into your mouth. Mint flavor bursts on your tongue, accompanied by hints of rich, smooth dark chocolate. It tastes good, you decide. He did a much better job putting together a respectable bowl than you did. Is your boss seriously feeding you in public? The surprises of the past week just continue to tally up. You’ve learned that Chrollo can be playful when he so chooses, yet this is a new level altogether.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>What ulterior motives hide beneath the surface of his calculated gaze?</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I believe I said I’d tell you the purpose behind this outing,” Chrollo pulls his spoon back as if it were the most casual thing, dipping in to prepare a bite for himself. “If we are to pass as a believable couple, we’ll need to practice, wouldn’t you agree?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Practice? So that was the motivation he had all along? He could have told you that from the start. You would have been more amiable in that case, if not a touch less flustered. There’s something else that’s troubling you. A faint suspicion that has held your mind prisoner the more you entertain it, with questionable validity.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I… can see your point.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You don’t know what else to say. Whether it’s the cold treat that’s suddenly frozen your tongue or the overall embarrassment, your mind has gone blank. Fortunately for you, Chrollo doesn’t allow for an uncomfortable silence to settle in and moves onto his next point.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s just as I feared. You’re too stiff with me,” he takes a bite of his yogurt. “An important detail like that would be noticed instantly and endanger the operation. So tell me, [First]...”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo rests his head on his hands and gives you another one of those bone-chilling smiles, entirely different than the one before. “Do I make you uncomfortable?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wouldn’t describe it like that,” you breathe out, internally begging your heart to stop racing more than it has in months, “Rather… I’m not familiar with… <em>this</em>.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You motion between the two of you to get the point across.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Now it’s Chrollo’s turn to lose his schooled facade for the briefest second. He furrows his eyebrows together, leaning slightly across the table to get a better look at you, searching for something.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Are you saying that you have never been in a relationship before? Somehow, I find that difficult to believe.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There is no escaping the past, is there? Your relationship with Karina was unconventional to say the least. It was an on and off affair that lasted a few months. Everything was done in secret, aside from the rare occasions she convinced you to accompany her to nearby villages, in which you’d diligently keep an eye out for danger. You felt enough eyes from afar to deduce your father was having you monitored, but that didn’t come as a surprise. He’d let you use your little downtime as you pleased if it meant keeping you complacent.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo sits back in his chair after pushing his personal intrigue down. “Regardless, we’ll need to figure this out if this plan is to work.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I understand. Whatever it is that you think will help, I’ll do.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Acting was not a foreign concept to Chrollo like it was to you. There was no reason for your training to include anything above basic deception, as you were assigned to work behind the scenes. Intimidation was the method you would use in the times it was necessary. That wouldn’t work here, not with the level your father and his servants are on, a different approach would be required.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a question itching in your mind that you haven’t been able to shake.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You were able to suppress it during the past day when you had work to distract yourself with, but now that you’re spending time in leisure, the whispering persists. It’s a narrative that you have mixed feelings over. Whether or not it was a misconception or reality could only be confirmed by the mysterious man sitting in front of you, who after all this time together, you’re still far from understanding.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You said before that I had permission to speak my mind freely, am I correct?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He answers without missing a beat. “You are.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You fingers twitch on your lap.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Tell me, Chrollo. You always intended to steal from my family, didn’t you?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Nothing on his face changes to betray his thoughts. From the looks of it, he’s weighing over his potential answers, all the while never breaking eye contact with you. No doubt trying to decide on the best answer to placate your accusatory tone. There’s no bloodlust or ill intent behind it — yet the air is tense enough to give the impression that was the case. You get the feeling that the answer is crucial to you both. For you to have a better grasp on Chrollo’s goal, and for him to recognize he can’t pull wool over your eyes. Or to be more specific, that you wouldn’t allow him to do that. Not for this job. Not when it was so close to home, literally and figuratively.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“So you could tell?” Is what he settles on saying in response.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Something deep inside of you threatens to crack.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Of course, it wouldn’t make sense for the leader of the Phantom Troupe to gallivant about with you for no ultimate purpose. The talk about your home country weeks ago on the roof, his interest in your sibling’s photo and subsequent questions, everything was a means to an end. That had to be it, right? You refuse to fan the flame of your hopes, only for it to be extinguished as it was with Karina.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>She may have been able to trick you into believing she cared, but you would not allow him to do the same.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You’d like to say that his confirmation has put you at ease. That now you know your relationship is a clear cut, some strings attached exchange, another leader for you to take orders from. It’s what you’re most familiar with. A routine you can fall back into, a black and white world to accept without question. This is what you know best. What you do best.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It may be a different continent, and a different set of circumstances, but there’s no doubt that your place is the same as it's always been. Neither has your abhorrence for double meanings and hidden agendas changed. If your time with Karina has taught you anything, it’s that charismatic individuals are more dangerous than any fight. Their ability to spin a web of deceit is something to both be begrudgingly revered and wary over.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“It’s inconsequential,” you smooth a wrinkle out in your blouse. “But I will say this. You can use me as an instrument for whatever mayhem you orchestrate to your heart's content.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>There’s a dull surge of pain in your gloved hand that you ignore to the best of your abilities.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“In return, I have a single condition. Do not try to play mind games with me. If you want something, say it. It’ll be a waste of time for us both otherwise.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>It was his mistake for granting you the leniency to say whatever you pleased. Naturally, you would act within reason, and you hope this proposal isn’t crossing a line. It isn’t dripping with animosity. You’ll continue to gauge his leadership abilities from how he handles this.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>Chrollo’s dark eyelashes flutter shut, that questionable smile on his face yet again. “If I want something, say it, huh?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He mulls over the prospect for some time. You sit perfectly still, legs crossed, and shoulders perfectly aligned. Neither of your faces reflects a semblance of human emotion. The surrounding world becomes a blur, an insignificant collection of mass, fading into obscurity. All that matters to you now is ensuring he knows your stance. Manipulation is not something you will allow yourself to be subjected to again. If that means resigning from the Spider altogether, then so be it; being alone is nothing new. You’ll keep that particular trump card tucked away for if the debate gets heated.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>His round, gray eyes open, the lack of light inside them apparent.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“You’ve got a deal.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>That settles that. No longer will you tolerate skirting around topics and leaving things to interpretation for his satisfaction. You could stomach it before when it didn’t involve such a personal circumstance, but for you both to work together well, his penchant for mind games needed to go on the backburner.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Now then,” you stand with all the elegance of a royal, footsteps not making a single sound while you seat yourself next to Chrollo, your determination burning anew. “Do it again. I’ve always been a fast learner, I see no reason why this would be any different.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>He must be slightly taken aback from your close proximity and newfound willingness. “You want me to feed you again?”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>You nod, no hints of shame present.</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“Or as many times as it takes for me to become a natural. I will warn you, that I settle for nothing short of perfection, so please excuse my thoroughness.”</p>
</div><div class="">
  <p>“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”</p>
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